Come Back Down
by meredith1018
Summary: Hermione is shocked to find Draco Malfoy strung-out and living as a Muggle in London, and is even more shocked when he shows up at her door begging for help. DH compliant but not Epilogue compliant. Dramoine. M for language.
1. Granger?

**A/N: This Dramoine fic will take place after DH but is not Epilogue compliant. **

**Ten points to anyone who can guess where I got the title of this fic! Hint: it's a song. **

**Disclaimer: The only thing that's mine is the plot. Everything else belongs to JKR, and you know it.**

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Hermione Granger was, aside from one or two issues, remarkably content with her current state of affairs.

After Voldemort had been defeated, the wizarding world had settled into what felt like a permanent state of peace (though she was sure it wouldn't remain that way forever, because the world didn't work like that). The Death Eaters had all been rounded up and either imprisoned or put under strict regulations, and there had only been minor problems with the lot altogether. Shacklebolt, as the new Minister of Magic, took a no-nonsense approach to leftover baddies – keep in line or get in jail (if you weren't already). Harry and Ron had joined him in the Auror department, and were very persnickety about who got leniency and who went straight to jail without collecting any mercy.

Hermione had helped them out for awhile, but once things quieted down she had started to look into other options. The Ministry had ended up paying her (as well as Ron and Harry) a large sum of money for her part in the war, including compensation for damages caused by the brief-but-no-less-scarring persecution of muggleborns. Hermione, being Hermione, had used her newly acquired small fortune to open a chain of wizarding book stores with locations in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and scattered throughout Muggle England (muggles thought these were Wiccan-type novelty stores – in fact, a decent amount of profits were gained from muggles curious to read about old witch trials and new-age rubbish).

Harry and Ron had wanted Hermione to live near them (Ron was staying with his parents while Harry and Ginny – who had married about a year after the war – had a house a few miles away), but she had felt a nagging need to live independently. Things with Ron were going nowhere fast, and Hermione felt some space could be just what they needed to get back on track. Ron was waffling about the whole idea of being in a committed relationship with her, and Hermione thought maybe the idea of her being gone would bring him to his senses.

Having reassured her friends that with apparition there was no need for them to be so weird about her not living nearby, Hermione had gotten a modest flat in London. Crookshanks in arms, Hermione had arrived at her new place with a newfound sense of liberation. After having such an intense, war-fueled adolescence, Hermione wanted nothing more than to live a quiet, peaceful life for a few years.

Owning a chain of bookstores turned out to be surprisingly uninvolved. Not being satisfied with signing papers for various orders and signing rent checks, Hermione had bought out a small space in the heart of London and opened a muggle bookstore. She owned and managed this small shop and thought of it as her baby, often staying long after she was done working to read for hours on end, not wanting to leave. She only had three employees (it was a small shop), and their favorite non-work related activity was teasing their boss about her constant presence in the shop.

Hermione stayed in the shop for extended lengths of times for a few reasons. First, she desperately loved to read. Second, she found her shop to be a very cozy place to read. Third, she had set herself a personal goal to read through every book in the store. And the last reason – the main reason, actually – was her desire to keep the wizarding world at a distance (but not going so far as to leave it altogether) for awhile, and reading muggle books in a muggle bookstore in the company of muggle employees and muggle customers in muggle London was the most appealing way to do so.

The shop was exactly where Hermione was currently headed. She wasn't supposed to work this particular evening, but as per usual, she was showing up to read and help close up anyway. Her assistant manager, Chelsea, got nervous when she had the closing shift – she was hopelessly paranoid about the freaks and weirdos who came out at night – so Hermione always made it a point to pop in and keep her company. Hermione, who always had her wand handy, had few qualms about being in the city late at night.

"Evening, Chelsea," Hermione chirped as she entered the shop. Chelsea, ever the spaz, dropped the books she was in the process of stocking.

"Good God, Hermione! I _told _you not to do that!" Chelsea replied, picking her books up.

"You know I don't mean to. It's not my fault if everything scares you."

"Yeah, well…yeah."

Hermione shook her head in exasperation.

"Hey, Hermione? Can you come here for a second?" Chelsea asked nervously, lowering her voice a little.

"Is something wrong?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not sure. There's just…there's been this guy hanging around the back row acting kind of fidgety…he's been there for like twenty minutes now, and it's kind of freaking me out," Chelsea whispered, nodding her head toward the back of the store.

Hermione chanced a glance through a bookshelf to see a young man standing at the back window. He looked a bit seedy – his blond hair was shaggy and unwashed, and his clothes looked like they hadn't seen a laundromat in recent memory.

"I think he's on drugs," Chelsea whispered in her ear.

"I'll just keep an eye on him," Hermione answered, feeling anxious. She didn't like the idea of anything shady going on in _her_ store.

"Alright."

Hermione took the books Chelsea had been restocking. "I'll take care of the rest of these, if you'd feel more comfortable behind the register." The words were barely out of Hermione's mouth before Chelsea was off towards the front counter.

Chelsea had barely sat down on the stool behind the counter when the door jingled open and a rather unsavory looking man walked in.

"Good evening," he said, flashing Hermione a winning smile that might have been charming if his teeth weren't so yellowed.

"Hello, can I help you?" Hermione asked politely.

"Just browsing today, thanks."

He strode off nonchalantly down the first row of shelves. Hermione wandered over to the counter, where Chelsea looked even more nervous than she already had.

"Hermione, I think he's a drug dealer," she whispered.

"Just because he's not up-to-date on toothpaste doesn't automatically make him a drug dealer, Chelsea," Hermione chided, though she was thinking along the same lines.

"Should I call the police?"

"Don't be silly, we don't even know if those two know each other."

"Well, they're certainly chatting like they know each other."

Hermione looked over her shoulder and, sure enough, the two men were speaking in hushed tones.

"Well, I'll just go back and check it out."

"Again, should I call the cops?"

"Okay, if you hear me raise my voice in fury, _then _you should probably call the police," Hermione muttered, putting down all the books in her arms but one, which she intended to stock (out of place) on the back shelf. As soon as Chelsea's back was turned, Hermione slipped her wand out of the wand-pocket she'd magically sewn into the leg of her oh-so-conveniently loose fitting jeans and silently cast a charm on the front door that locked it only from the inside. Quickly securing her wand back in place, Hermione made her way towards the men in the back.

Walking up the next to last aisle of shelves (there were only four), Hermione discreetly peered through the shelf.

And, there, right before her very eyes, the man that had just walked into the store pulled a baggie of what were unmistakably drugs out of his pocket as the blond man pulled some bills out of his own pocket.

"Stop it right there!" Hermione yelled, storming around the corner and brandishing the book in what she hoped was a menacing manner. "I will NOT have any drug deals going on in MY store! And if you think you are walking out of here you have another thing-"

Hermione paused in the middle of her screaming, for she had just gotten a good look at the blond man.

_Draco Malfoy_.

Draco Malfoy was involved in a drug deal. In _her_ bookstore. In her _m__uggle_ bookstore.

For his part, he looked just as shocked as she did.

Hermione snapped out of her state of shock when she realized the drug dealer moving towards her, his lip curled in a snarl as he drew back his fist. Hermione dodged his punch and pulled out her wand, manging to wack him in the shoulder with her book before he knocked out of her hands. She dodged the foot he kicked out at her, shrieking as he regrouped and shoved her roughly into a bookshelf. Dodging another punch, Hermione kicked him hard enough in the stomach to give her enough room to extend her arm and raise her wand arm, but he was quicker and aimed a new punch at her stomach, this time making contact. Hermione screamed as pain exploded throughout her abdomen and clutched her stomach, but just managed to duck under yet another blow and finally got enough distance to raise her wand again and blast him across the room with a spell. Barely registering Chelsea hysterically screaming into the telephone, Hermione immediately Confunded the dealer.

Breathing heavily, Hermione lowered her wand cast a quick healing charm on her aching torso, immediately feeling the pain leave her body.

"Hermione! _Hermione! _Are you okay? The police are on the way!" Chelsea shrieked from the front of the store. Hermione barely registered what she'd said, because she was now too busy staring at Draco Malfoy.

He hadn't moved at all during the struggle, except to step out of the way as the dealer was blasted across the room. He was currently staring right back at Hermione, looking utterly confused.

"Granger?"

Hermione sucked in a breath. Well, it was definitely him (she had vainly hoped for a second it was just an eerie doppelganger). The only people who ever addressed her by her last name had been at Hogwarts, and there were no Draco Malfoy look-a-likes at Hogwarts. And Draco Malfoy looked _awful_.

His hair was terribly unkempt, his (Muggle!) clothes were even worse, and his eyes were incredibly bloodshot. His expression was what was the most startling – there was a distinct weariness in his eyes, and his once aristocratic features were now gaunt and even paler than they used to be, if that were even possible.

Hermione heard the sirens approaching. Suddenly feeling rather panicked, she glanced nervously over her shoulder, then at the dealer who was sitting on the floor looking perplexed and drooling a little, and then back at Malfoy, who had stopped looking confused and started looking frightened as the sirens approached.

"No – oh shit!" He cursed, his hands flying up to wring his hair and face twisting in horrorified anguish. He was clearly a little strung out, and combined with the look of utter defeat on his face, Hermione felt a sudden wave of pity for her former classmate rush over her.

"Go out the back door in the room behind the counter," she whispered. She didn't really understand why, but Malfoy's look of despair had stirred in her an inexplicable urge to protect him.

"What?"

"Just go," she whispered urgently as the sirens got even closer. "Now, Malfoy!"

He gaped at her for another moment before turning and running without another question. Hermione heard Chelsea shriek again as he ran behind the counter towards escape. Knowing what she was about to do was terribly wrong, she turned her wand on the dealer again.

"_Obliviate!_" She whispered, erasing his memory of her letting Malfoy get away.

The sirens were right outside the door. Desperately hoping Chelsea hadn't seen any of her wand usage, Hermione threw a last disgusted look at the dealer (who was completely out of it at this point) and walked back to the front, silently removing the charm on the front door and slipped her wand back into her jeans just as the police rushed in.

Hermione's mind was racing as the police questioned her. She went through her version of the events – the suspicious behavior, seeing the drugs, struggling with the dealer – with what she hoped was a sincere mix of calm professionalism, shakiness from the fight, and disbelief at what kind of messed up person held a drug deal in a bookstore. She, of course, tweaked the end of the events, telling the police she'd managed to keep the dealer in the store but hadn't been able to stop the buyer from fleeing.

She'd been very pleased with herself for being able to hold it together and lie convincingly through her teeth to officers of the law (though she did feel a significant amount of guilt while doing so). She also felt a nice sense of satisfaction when she noticed her Confundus charm had finally worn off the dealer, who shot her a look full of rage as the police dragged him out of the store in handcuffs.

Fortunately, Chelsea hadn't witnessed any of Hermione's magic. She told the police she'd been hiding under the counter the entire time, which hadn't surprised Hermione in the least. Hermione was definitely going to stop giving her night shifts.

Hermione had decided not to lie when describing the appearance of the escaped buyer, feeling like there were enough blond young men in London that Malfoy was probably safe from being picked up on the street. Unless, that is, he was stupid enough to buy drugs in a public shop again.

After the police were done, Hermione and Chelsea closed the store. Feeling horrible that someone as perpetually nervous as Chelsea had had to go through that ordeal, Hermione walked her to her car and gladly accepted a ride back to her flat. It had been a trying night, after all.

She barely slept that night. Not only was it disturbing that there had been an actual drug deal in _her _bookstore (a _bookstore!_), it was also highly distressing to come face to face with Draco Malfoy.

Why, in the name of Merlin, was Draco Malfoy doing drugs? And why did he appear to be living as Muggle?

It all very mind-boggling.

Hermione didn't feel bad about letting him go, though. She knew he'd been through a terrible ordeal during the war, and it had clearly led him to a life of self-destruction. Hermione still didn't have any fondness for him, but she had taken pity on him after the war. He had been put to a horrible use by Voldemort, and it had clearly taken a toll on his sanity. She couldn't even guess what he was doing with his life now. He was probably off at some crack house, for all she knew, trying to erase the memory of seeing a girl he'd spent seven years of his life loathing.

Hermione got out of bed at six, having gotten a meager two hours of sleep. She was supposed to open the shop today anyway, and she would need time to down a few cups of coffee and shower before being there at eight.

She felt like a zombie as she walked through the streets of London. There were already a large amount of people bustling off to work, so Hermione didn't see the person sitting on the curb outside of her shop until she was nearly at the door. In fact, she only noticed when the person suddenly addressed her as she was pulling out the keys to unlock the doors.

"Granger, can I talk to you?"

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**A/N: Good? Bad? Let me know in a review!**

**As a forewarning, I cannot promise fast updates. I never can, and that's no different with this fic. I do my writing almost exclusively at night, and that's only if my muses haven't retreated and taken my inspiration with them. I have found recently that writing fics at night helps me focus on my course work during the day (don't ask me how that works because it baffles me to), so I seem to be able to get updates out pretty fast recently. But still, no promises. **


	2. My help?

**A/N: This chapter's a little shorter, but everything that needed to happen happened. I'm aiming for all of the chapters in this story to be between 2,000 and 3,000, usually somewhere in the middle. Some will be longer and some will be shorter depending on content. Just FYI. **

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the plot. Everything else belongs to JKR. **

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"Granger, can I talk to you?"

Hermione froze and nearly dropped her shop keys at the sound of that all too familiar voice.

She didn't respond, just stared at him with wide eyes. He didn't look any better than yesterday – if anything, he looked even worse, because he clearly hadn't slept at all last night.

"Please?"

"Oh, um, I suppose," she stammered, still shocked that Draco Malfoy had been waiting at her shop for her to arrive.

"Can we go in? I just – I'd rather have some privacy?"

Hermione turned and unlocked the door without saying anything. She noticed with dismay that her hand shook as she opened the door to her shop and hoped Malfoy didn't notice how much his strung-out presence was making her. She had no idea what to expect from him.

"Er, about last night-"

"Yeah, _what the hell, Malfoy_?" Hermione snapped as she whirled around to glare at him, her anger rising suddenly and surprisingly forcefully. "Why on earth were you in _my _shop buying _drugs_?"

"I just-"

"Do you have _any _idea how much trouble you caused? How much _more _trouble you could have caused if I hadn't been here? My employee could barely speak she was so terrified! I'll be lucky if she doesn't quit after that fiasco! Not to mention that your little friend could have _killed _me if I hadn't been fast enough, and then on top of all that I had to _lie _to the police about it all!"

"I know-"

"No, you don't _know, _Malfoy," she spat, striding up to him and jabbing a finger in his chest. "Look, I don't know _what _you're issue is, but you are damn lucky you looked pathetic enough for me to save your sorry bum. If I ever catch you involved in _anything_ like that _ever _again I swear I will happily restrain you myself until the police get there to cart you off!"

"I'm sorry-"

"Oh, you're _sorry. _You wreak havoc in _my _store and then have the gall to come in and say you're sorry," she bit out sarcastically, taking a step back and glaring at him malevolently. "Well, you damn well-"

"Will you just shut up for a minute and let me talk?"

Hermione snapped her mouth shut, angry at being interrupted, and tried very hard to make her glare even meaner despite how gently he had cut her off. As gently as he'd said it, there had been a brief flash in his eyes that had reminded Hermione of the arrogant prat from Hogwarts, but it was only there for a moment before it receded again, his eyes full of nothing but misery.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened last night, okay? I know you don't believe me, but I mean it."

Hermione didn't respond, as she was now busy carefully appraising Draco. He looked to be wearing the same clothes from the night before, and his pale blond hair that grew to his chin didn't look any less unkempt. The skin on his face looked drawn and sallow, and there were dark circles under his still bloodshot eyes. His expression surprised her a little – she thought maybe he'd look even the slightest bit irritated because of her yelling, but he only looked weary and forlorn.

"I don't know if you'd noticed, but I'm in a bad state, Granger."

Again, Hermione didn't respond, because she would have had to be blind not to notice he was in a bad state.

"I came here today because I wanted to thank you. I know you didn't have to help me out last night, and you probably regretted it as soon as I ran out. I wouldn't have helped me if I were in your place. So…thanks," he said quietly, looking at his feet and clearly uncomfortable under her studious gaze. "And – and I wanted to ask you something."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "I don't have any drugs, if that's what you're after."

He winced at her harsh words, but continued anyway. "Granger, I know you hate me, and I don't really like you all that much either, but I just – I really need your help."

He had spoken the last part so softly that Hermione was barely sure she'd heard it correctly. "My help?"

"Like I said, I'm in a really bad state, and after last night – at seeing someone from my past, you know, from the magical world, I thought…well, I realized I had turned into gutter trash, and then I felt even worse than I usually do."

Hermione felt her anger slowly starting to ebb away. He just looked so defeated that she couldn't help but start feeling sorry for him again. "Why would you want _my _help?"

Draco rubbed at his weary eyes, still not meeting her eye. "I don't really have a lot of friends here, and the ones I do – they're not, well, they wouldn't really be able to understand, because they're not – they're muggles, and this probably sounds weird, but I'm not in contact with anyone from our world anymore, and I don't think a muggle would really get – I mean, they don't _know_ about all that happened so they wouldn't really – they couldn't understand."

Hermione's mouth dropped open. She had suspected Draco had been living as a muggle, but she didn't think he'd cut himself off from the wizarding world entirely!

Draco looked so helpless as he stood before her, nervously glancing around at the bookshelves and scratching behind his ear. Hermione had never seen Draco Malfoy look vulnerable before, and here he was, begging for someone he hated to help him straighten out his life. It was bizarre and unexpected and crazy and just…weird.

"Please, Granger. I can't – I can't do it anymore."

Despite herself, Hermione felt her heart break a little at his soft plea accompanied by his pathetic, exhausted, hopeless appearance. "What do you need?"

Draco looked immensely relieved that she'd agreed to help him and opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment a familiar elderly couple who frequented the shop walked in, the jingle on the door causing Draco to start in surprise.

Hermione rushed forward and greeted the couple, and after they'd gone to browse in the third aisle of shelves, she turned back to Draco, who had gone to the counter and was scribbling something on a scrap piece of paper.

"Here, it's my number," he said, thrusting the piece of paper at her with a miserable expression on his face. "Just – just call me when you get the chance, alright?"

She studied is desperate face for a moment before nodding. Without another word, he turned and left.

The rest of her shift passed by in a blur. It was a busy morning, and Hermione was grateful for the distraction from her conflicted thoughts.

If someone had told her a week ago that Draco Malfoy would show up at her store begging for her help to get his life back on a track, Hermione would have laughed them all the way back to the 1980s.

She really could not believe that he had come to ask for her help. Was he really that alone that he would resort to asking someone he loathes for help? He'd said he'd cut ties with everyone from the muggle world, so Hermione could buy into his reasoning a bit about wanting someone who understood a little bit about what he went through, but still – her?

It was rather baffling, and it made Hermione a little nervous. She didn't know the first thing about druggies (aside from them being pathetic), and she really had no idea how she was going to go about helping someone get back on their feet. If that wasn't off-putting enough, Hermione had _zero _idea how she was going to go about this whole ordeal with Draco bloody Malfoy.

He hadn't acted nasty towards her today or last night, but Hermione couldn't be sure if that was a permanent thing or just some act to get her to agree to help him. She wanted to believe he'd matured and could behave like a civil adult, but he was still a Malfoy. There was no way for her to be sure before she saw him again.

"There she is," Hermione started as she heard Ron's voice next to ear.

"Oh! Ron, you're a little early – Matthew won't be here for a few minutes," Hermione regrouped, giving her head a little shake to clear her mind. She had plans to go to lunch with Ron, and the last thing she needed to be thinking about during that was a drug-addled Draco Malfoy.

"That's alright. I like you watching you slave away like a muggle," he joked, grinning widely at her faux-affronted expression.

"You're awful," she ribbed. Just then the door jingled, and in walked her relief. "Oh dear, it looks like you're out of luck – my relief has mercifully arrived a bit early!"

Ron pretended to look like someone had just told him the Chudley Cannons had finally decided to disband. Hermione, laughing, reached over the counter to retrieve her purse. After a quick greeting and an equally quick farewell to Matthew, Hermione looped her arm through Ron's and strode out of her store, leaving all thoughts of a certain Slytherin behind her.

Hermione had a fantastic time with Ron that afternoon. No, he still didn't seem willing to commit to a relationship, but it was a pleasant time nonetheless. They'd eaten lunch at a cozy little café and then played Ron's favorite muggle game, which involved judging everyone who walked past while Hermione chastised him (but laughed while doing so). When Ron finally got bored being a judgmental prat, they'd decided to go the cinema, where they saw a thoroughly stupid romantic comedy that they spent an hour making fun of while they strolled through a nearby park.

It was annoying that Ron wouldn't commit, but Hermione couldn't complain after such a wonderful time, especially since he'd playfully pecked her on the cheek before disapparating back to the Burrow. He did sometimes have the tendency to be emotionally immature, but he really was quite sweet.

She felt delightfully carefree as she arrived to her flat, only to feel her mood dampen immediately when she reached into her purse to grab her keys and felt her fingers brush against a piece of paper.

A piece of paper with Draco Malfoy's phone number.

Oh, bollocks. She'd had a few glorious hours without thinking about him once, and here he was spoiling her mood without even knowing it. That git.

Hermione sighed as she bypassed the paper, pulled her keys out and unlocked her door. So much for being delightfully carefree.

He'd be expecting her to call, then. Hermione pulled the offending piece of paper out before tossing her purse on her counter. She stared at it for a long moment before securing it with a magnet to her refrigerator door.

But surely he couldn't expect her to call the same day? She needed some time to process things, to get her thoughts straightened out before delving in to this thing. Hermione had offered to help him, but she would rather not get into what was bound to be the start of something terribly complicated after such a great afternoon.

She had a horrible mental image of Draco sitting alone in a trashed apartment, strung out and waiting for his phone to ring with his only hope on the other end.

No, no, no! Hermione let out a frustrated sigh and yanked her refrigerator open to grab a bottle of wine. Pouring herself a healthy amount (but not too healthy) of spirits, Hermione pushed that image out of her mind. Taking a lengthy sip of her red wine, Hermione felt marginally more relaxed. No, she shouldn't be thinking up rubbish like that. For all she knew he was…well, she had no idea what Malfoy would be doing.

She was off tomorrow, so that would be a much better day to phone Malfoy and work something out. What that would be, she had no idea.

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**A/N: Read and review!**


	3. I Don't Know Where to Start

**A/N: Alright, this chapter was extremely hard to write. Honestly, it kicked my ass. It was really difficult, and I hope it turned out decently, because I spent a loooooonnngggg time going over the conversations trying to make them good. Hope it's up to par!**

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Hermione woke up the next day feeling incredibly refreshed. Having been so exhausted, she'd fallen asleep in about three seconds.

Stretching her arms over head and yawning, Hermione glanced at her alarm clock, and was shocked to see that she'd slept until noon. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so late!

Tossing her covers aside, Hermione got out of bed and smiled idly. There really was nothing like getting an excellent night sleep – except, of course, a steaming cup of coffee to top it off.

Making her way towards her beloved coffee pot, Hermione sighed contentedly. Feeling well rested really was delightful. Almost as delightful as charmed coffee makers that automatically brewed your coffee when you woke up, no matter what time it was.

Hermione poured a cup of the delicious drink, smiling as Crookshanks walked up to rub against her shins. That cat really was the best – huge and gaining some weight in his post-Hogwarts wandering days, but the best nonetheless.

It was when she went to open the refrigerator for her cream that she his phone number.

Hermione's hand dropped from the door handle. She was supposed to call him today, and the idea made her so anxious that her stomach rolled. Coffee suddenly sounded nauseating.

Despite her best efforts, Hermione felt the panic starting to creep into her system. She couldn't believe she was in such a situation. How had this happened to her? She had been so happy with her lot in life only to have Draco Malfoy saunter in and muck it all up…

No, that wasn't fair – it hadn't looked like Malfoy had sauntered anywhere in quite some time (drunkenly stumbled, maybe). He was in terrible condition, and he'd begged for her to help him.

Her. A woman he'd relentlessly tortured for six years running while at school. A woman who hadn't exactly been saintly towards him (though with good reason). A woman who's best friend was his arch rival. A woman he'd thought of as scum because of her heritage.

And as much as Hermione didn't want to complicate her life by getting involved in Draco Malfoy's issues, she was going to help him. How could she not? She despised the guy, but she was a mature adult and he needed help, and she was too damn compassionate to just let someone continue on a road of self-destruction when she had the chance to step in and help them.

Sighing but nevertheless sticking her chin up in determination, Hermione snatched the number out from under its magnet. No point in putting it off.

As determined as she was to achieve in her new challenge of turning Draco Malfoy back into something resembling a sane, sober, sauntering human being, Hermione's hands shook as she picked up her phone. _Bizarre, bizarre, bizarre…_

She had half hoped he would be out, asleep, or maybe knocked out by drugs and thus unable to answer his phone, but he picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Malfoy?"

He didn't respond immediately. Hermione chewed her lip nervously, wondering if maybe she'd misdialed.

"You called. I didn't think you would," he finally said, his voice low and sleepy.

"Did – did I wake you?" she asked anxiously.

"Yeah," he replied. He didn't sound annoyed, at least.

"Sorry," Hermione muttered.

"It's fine."

Hermione shut her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her free hand. She suddenly realized she should have probably thought of something to say before calling.

She cleared her throat nervously. "Um, well…you – you said I should I call…"

"Yeah, I did," he murmured.

Hermione waited for a moment before deciding to prompt him. "Well?"

"If you could just – just come over, I'll explain things," he said quietly.

Hermione nearly dropped her phone. "Your place?"

She heard him snort at her apprehensive tone. "I don't live in a crack house, Granger."

"I didn't say you did-"

"Your tone implied otherwise," he snapped.

Hermione frowned. He was waking up and clearly sober (for now), and the traces of the old Malfoy were all over his voice.

"Well after the other night can you blame me?" she hissed into the phone.

"Whatever, Granger, I'm really too hungover to care," he grumbled. "Just come over, okay?"

* * *

Hermione had been surprised to discover that Malfoy was living fairly close by, just on the outer fringes of the side of London she resided in. She hadn't, however, been surprised to find herself standing in front of a large, pretentious townhouse. That Malfoys may have had a tough public life after the war, but public opinion clearly didn't have any affect on their money.

Hermione tentatively walked up the front steps and rang the doorbell. She was trying very hard to steady her breathing, not wanting to seem like a blithering mess as soon as he opened the door. She was the one who needed to have the level head in this arrangement, after all.

In the middle of mentally counting to ten to calm her nerves, the front door swung open. It was not, however, Draco Malfoy standing in the threshold, but an extremely tall man around their age who raised his eyebrows when he spotted the shocked woman on his porch.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely.

"Um, I'm here to see Draco Malfoy?" she stammered, immediately reverting back to a nervous mess.

"Drake?" he eyed her skeptically, causing Hermione to wonder about the type of people who usually showed up to see Malfoy.

Hermione nodded. "Is he in?"

"Yeah…he's upstairs. I'm Addison, by the way," he stuck out his hand.

"Hermione," she replied, shaking his hand and feeling a little relieved that he was no longer looking at her like she was a junkie.

"Alright, follow me."

The inside of the townhouse betrayed no hint that a wizard was dwelling there. Hermione couldn't help but feel a little amused as she followed the tall man up the stairs – she was still having a bit of trouble wrapping her head around the fact that Muggle-hating Draco Malfoy was now living so…Muggleishly.

"Hey man, you have a guest," Addison said when he reached the end of the hallway, stopping in front of an open doorway. "Goes by Hermione."

"Ugh," he groaned from inside the room.

"He's in there," Addison said sarcastically, grinning at Hermione. "Make sure you talk nice and loudly – he loves that."

"Um, okay," she replied.

"Good luck," he said, giving her another sarcastic grin as he brushed past her towards the stairs.

"Thanks," Hermione said over her shoulder.

"You came."

Hermione started a little, her head snapping back in the direction of Malfoy's voice.

He was standing in his doorway, leaning against the frame and looking like a wreck. He was wearing the same clothes as he had the two pervious times Hermione had seen him.

"I said I would."

Malfoy stared at her for a few moments, causing Hermione to shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

"I think you owe me an explanation," she said finally, crossing her arms.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Come on in, then."

Hermione followed him into his room, fidgeting nervously with the hem of her shirt. His room, much like his appearance, was a wreck. Everything was in disorder – clothes were strewn over every imaginable surface, magazines and crumpled pieces of papers were littered everywhere, and various cups, glasses, and alcohol bottles covered every inch of his desk and bureau.

Malfoy shook a pair of jeans off his desk chair, gesturing her to sit as he collapsed into his bed.

Hermione primly perched on the chair, eyeing the alcohol bottles on the nearby desk distastefully.

"So explain," she demanded, tearing her gaze away from his desk to look at him.

He sighed, sitting forward to rest his head in his hands. "I don't know where to start," he mumbled.

"How about after your dad got chucked in Azkaban and you disappeared off the face of the earth?" she asked, tilting her head condescendingly.

He scowled at her sarcasm. "Fine," he bit out, sitting up straighter. "My father went to Azkaban, my mother went back to the Manor, and I moved to London and went off the deep end."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Malfoy, if you really want me to help you to _not_ be a pathetic mess you're going to have to elaborate."

"I know," he groaned. "I just don't really want to."

"Fine," Hermione snapped, standing up. "I'll see myself out, then."

"No, wait," he stood up, moving to block her path to the door. "Look, I'm sorry, but it – it's just a little weird, you now, because it's you."

Hermione glared at him for a moment before sitting back down. After all, it was kind of weird. "Then talk."

"Okay," he breathed, sitting back on the edge of his bed. "Okay, well, you kind of saw a bit of what my life was like during that last year of the war…" he looked at her nervously, clearly worried she wouldn't like reminiscing about being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Go on."

"Well, it kind of – it kind of messed me up. He made me – I didn't want to do it, any of it, but he said if I didn't he'd kill me and then my parents if I couldn't," he said softly, dropping his head back into his hands.

"What did he make you do?" Hermione asked, even though she already knew.

"After – after the prisoners were tortured to a point, he said it was my job to – to kill them, and I didn't want to but I had to because I didn't want him to have my parents killed and I – I killed them all," he whispered frantically, wringing his hands into his pale hair. "I couldn't – I couldn't sleep at all that year. Every night I saw them in my dreams, begging me not to kill them and I couldn't get them out of my head. And after it was all over, after Potter defeated him, I still saw them. I took dreamless sleep potions and everything but I would still see them crying in front of me and then – and then I wouldn't sleep anymore because I couldn't stand it. And then when my father went to jail I decided I'd had enough of it all, so I – I left."

Hermione stared pitifully at Malfoy, silent tears escaping the corner of her eyes.

"I got to London and found an ad for a guy looking for a roommate – Addison's, obviously – and moved in here. I thought getting away from the magical community would have helped, but I still saw those people I killed every time I went to sleep, and I couldn't deal with it anymore. I just couldn't bear seeing their faces and knowing what I did to them…so I started drinking heavily, and that helped a little but – but not enough. And then I started smoking pot and then that led to other – other things."

"What – what kind of other things?"

He lifted his head a little to glance at her. "If you pull out some of those drawers you can see for yourself."

Hermione hastily wiped the tears from her face and looked at the desk apprehensively.

"Go ahead, open them."

She still didn't move, just stared at the desk.

"Fine," he snapped, roughly getting to his feet and reaching for the drawers. "You wanted to know," he spat, yanking the drawers open. "There, Granger, there's the 'other things.'"

Hermione had stood up when Malfoy started yanking the drawers open and was now staring wide-eyed at their contents. Syringes, pills, rolled up joints, and other things she didn't recognize were packed into each drawer.

He was glaring at her, his breath coming in ragged bursts.

"Well?" he asked nastily, taking a step towards her.

"Well what?"

"Get rid of them, that's what!" he yelled at her.

"Just like that?" she squeaked.

"Yeah, just like that! If I could get rid of them myself I would have never come to a sodding Mudblood like you for hel-"

THUD.

Hermione had gone from horrified to enraged in about a second, and as soon as 'Mudblood' left his mouth she'd curled her fist and cut him off in the most effective way possible.

Malfoy was holding his chin tenderly, glaring at her through watery eyes.

"You'd do well to not say that word _ever _again if you want me to help you," she seethed. "Got it?"

He glared at her for a moment longer before sinking back onto his bed and cradling his head once more. Then – and Hermione couldn't believe her eyes – he started crying.

Hermione felt her anger leave her system as quickly as it had come. This man was clearly incredibly unstable, and she was going to have to get used to it if she was really going to do this.

"Malfoy," she started. "Look, I'm sorry I hit you, but you know-"

"No I – I'm sorry. Please," he whimpered without looking at her. "Please just get rid of them."

"Okay," she said, drawing her wand. She quickly Vanished the contents one drawer at a time. The only things she left were the packs of cigarettes. "It's gone."

"Thanks," he mumbled, slowly laying down and burying his face in his pillow.

Hermione didn't respond, just Vanished the contents of the alcohol bottles covering his desk.

When she'd finished, she looked nervously at the prone form of her old enemy, feeling both horrified and heartbroken at what he'd come to.

Feeling as if she was no longer needed for the time being, she quietly left his room and headed down the hallway. When she reached the stairs, she paused, suddenly feeling guilty at leaving without a word. With a nervous glance towards his room, Hermione decided she'd just leave her number on the little table in the entranceway she'd passed on her way in.

When she got to the bottom of the staircase, Hermione pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of her purse and scribbled her phone number down.

"Leaving so soon?"

Hermione paused as she was putting her pen away. Addison was standing near a door at the end of the hall, looking at her with an amused look on his face.

"Yeah," she replied, adjusting the strap of her purse on her shoulder. "We were just catching up."

"How do you know Drake?" he asked curiously, walking towards her.

"We went to school together."

"Friend from school, eh?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Well, I wouldn't bother getting too caught up."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Please, you now what I mean. Seriously, don't get involved with him. He's bad news."

"You live with him," Hermione said coolly.

"It's different."

"Why is it different?" she demanded.

"I can handle myself-"

"You think I can't?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

It was his turn to shrug. "I'm just saying, he's into some bad stuff-"

"For your information, that's why I'm here. He asked me to help him."

"Really?" he seemed impressed for a millisecond before shrugging again. "Well, good luck with that."

He gave her an odd look before turning and disappearing back through the door he had come through. Hermione watching him go, vaguely wondering if he'd even bothered trying to help his troubled roommate.

Glancing once more at the stairs, Hermione turned and left.

* * *

**A/N: I hope that was acceptable...I wanted to make it clear that Draco was really unstable, but never having intereacted all that much with anyone on drugs I wasn't sure how to go about it...I hope it was realistic!**

**A few things:**

**Addison - I chose his name because my sister kind of went through a similar story in real life where she befriened a guy who was into some bad stuff but was cleaning up under her excellent influence (because my sister is awesome). They ended up falling in love, yada yada yada, except it ended badly because he was a jerk and my sister was too good for him and kicked him to the curb. Anyway, he had a pretty decent friend named Addison. **

**Relationship - It will come, but it will come gradually. They have to be friends first, people! It's not gonna be like 20 chapters until one of them is like YAHTZEE, I'M IN LOVE! or anything, but it's also not gonna be in an unrealistically short time period. As if Hermione would just fall head over heels with a drug addled Draco Malfoy straight away! But it's gonna happen, trust me. **

**Reviews: You guys have left really encouraging reviews so far, and it means a lot to me. Thank you!**


	4. Not Yet

**A/N: This chapter's just a little bit shorter than the previous ones, but I needed to end it where it did, because it's the last real exposition chapter before things pick up. **

**Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. It's JKRs. **

* * *

Hermione didn't go home right away.

She quickly realized she had zero idea on how to deal with a drug addict and had made a beeline for the nearest bookstore, heading straight for the self-help section. She'd purchased the most promising book she'd skimmed through, and the clerk who checked her at the register had given her quite odd looks that did not go unnoticed.

Well, Hermione mused, they probably didn't get a lot of clean cut, bush-haired nerd types purchasing books on drug addiction.

After stopping at her favorite pub to have a bracing glass of wine and a nice chat with the owner (who was an old friend of her dad's), Hermione took a leisurely stroll through the park to clear her head. She needed to order of shipment of books for her wizarding bookstores, and she'd really like to get her Malfoy-drenched thoughts out of her head before dealing with that task.

He really was something.

She felt uncomfortably out of her league at the moment, and she didn't like it. She also didn't like that it was _him _who was the cause of it all – how was she supposed to work with someone she could barely be civil with?

Hermione was definitely going to have to work on that. She had every intention of going through this ordeal like a mature adult, but could Malfoy? Would it be asking too much of him to be able to work through his issues and be nice to her about it?

Eh…she'd work on that later.

Unfortunately for Hermione, 'that' was waiting for her at her apartment door, slumped against the wall and smoking a cigarette.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, shocked to see Malfoy waiting by her door.

"You left the cigarettes," he said, taking a long draw for emphasis.

"Yeah, so?"

"Why?"

Hermione shrugged as she pulled her keys out. "I don't know that much about withdrawal, but I thought it might help you from going _completely_ mental."

He stood up as she unlocked her door. "I think you're right – you _don't_ know much-"

"Sod off, I got a book about it," she grumbled, already wishing she'd taken longer strolling in the park. Or better yet, had stopped by the bookstore for a few hours.

"A book? Really, Granger?"

"What are you doing here?" she asked again as she stood in her doorway.

"Well, I _wanted _a drink but you got rid of all of that, too. Without being asked, I might add."

"Oh, I'm sorry. When said you wanted me to get rid of all of it I thought you meant _all _of it," she snapped, walking into her apartment and irritably noting that Malfoy followed her in, sadly not put off by her sarcasm.

"Very funny, Gran – ARGH!"

Hermione couldn't help but cackle. Crookshanks – that loveable little scamp! – had leapt atop Malfoy's pale head from his perch on top of the refrigerator and was purring contentedly as he scratched at Malfoy's ear.

"Get it off! Get it off!"

"Crookshanks doesn't like strangers," she said through her laughter.

"I can see that!" he said through gritted teeth, trying to pry the ginger cat off his head. After a few moments of playfully sinking his claws into Malfoy's hands, Crookshanks finally leapt to the floor and meandered over to rub against Hermione's ankles, looking up at her with a self-satisfied smug look on his face. After receiving an approving smile from Hermione, the cat sauntered off towards the couch.

Hermione looked up at Malfoy, who was glaring at her as he pulled out a fresh cigarette, the last one having fallen to the floor in the struggle. She noticed his chin was now sporting a large bruise, and she felt rather pleased about it.

"This is a non-smoking building," Hermione said disapprovingly, Vanishing the cigarette on her floor with a wave of her wand.

Malfoy just glared at her some more, blowing a puff of smoke in her face.

"How'd you know where I live, anyway?" she asked, stepping away from the cloud of smoke.

"Looked it up."

"Right," she replied. "Well, I've got business to take care of, so if you'll just be on your way, that would be great."

"Rubbish."

"Excuse me?"

"I need to talk to you."

Hermione sighed. "Again? Or were you not finished?"

"I came to apologize."

"Apologize? For what?"

Malfoy rubbed his chin. "For being a temperamental dick."

"I wouldn't have expected anything more from you, especially under the current circumstances," she said honestly.

"Fair enough," he shrugged. "Anyway, I'm sorry."

Hermione absentmindedly wondered how many times she was going to hear that word in the coming…weeks? Months? _Years_?

"So you're sorry for being a terrible person. Anything _specific _you'd like to apologize for?"

Malfoy blew another puff of smoke at her face. "Specific?"

"That's what I said."

He stared blankly at her.

Hermione tapped her fisted hand against her chin.

"Oh," he said as comprehension dawned on his face. "Sorry."

"For what, _specifically_?"

"Fine. I'm sorry for calling you a Mudblood, alright? It's a reflex," he said irritably.

"Apology accepted."

Malfoy just scowled at her.

"Okay, Malfoy. Feel free to let yourself out," Hermione said waspishly. His presence really was quite draining.

"I wasn't done," he said wearily, stamping his cigarette out on her counter before settling into a chair at her kitchen table.

Hermione mentally counted to ten as she Vanished his cigarette. "What now?"

"I need a favor," he said.

Hermione eyes him skeptically. As pitiful as he was, slumped at her kitchen table in days-old clothes, she wasn't too keen on the idea of doing too many favors for Draco Malfoy.

"What's that?" she finally asked.

"Can you act like you don't hate me?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "_What?_"

"I know you can't stand me, but it would be nice if you could just try and pretend to not hate me when I'm around."

"I don't hate you, Malfoy," she sighed, sitting down at the chair across him. "I think you're a bastard who's made a lot of rotten choices, but I don't hate you."

He looked at her sadly, clearly not really believing her. "Really?"

"If I hated you I would have never allowed you to enter my home, trust me."

Malfoy snorted before crossing his arms on the table and laying his head on them. "That's…comforting," he mumbled.

Hermione frowned at his rather greasy hair. "Speaking of comfort, maybe you should start this whole process by embracing personal hygiene."

He lifted his head and rested his chin on his arms to scowl at her.

"I'm serious, Malfoy. And eat a few burgers – you look like a Thestral."

"Is this you being nice?"

"I consider honesty to fall under the category of 'nice,' yes."

He just stared at her.

Hermione, yet again, found herself marveling at how different he was.

He was already so different from how he was at Hogwarts…could he be even _more _different – could he be good?

"Malfoy?"

"What?"

"Do you – do you still care about pureblood superiority?" she asked tentatively.

He looked at her like she was incredibly dim. "Granger, I'm living as a muggle and sitting at _your _table. Does it look like I still care?"

Hermione considered him for a few moments. "I guess not…"

"You don't believe me."

"Well…" she trailed off, thrown off by the disappointment in his voice. "Not yet."

* * *

Malfoy finally skulked out of her flat citing a headache, leaving Hermione worried. He really was quite a mess, and she wasn't sure if her recently acquired book would be very helpful.

Deciding to put off her shipment orders for a night, Hermione was currently curled under the covers in her bed, absentmindedly watching Crookshanks happily attempt to eat her shoes.

Watching Malfoy leave her flat in just as pathetic a manner as when he came in, Hermione had come to the ugly realization that this was going to take a long, long time. She'd already assumed as much, but the ugly part of the realization was that it meant she was going to have to tell Harry and Ron sometime in the near future.

The prospect of having _that _conversation was very distressing indeed, and made Hermione's head spin so much that she had retreated to her bed.

She knew they weren't going to like that she was helping their old enemy, even if said enemy was pathetically weak and about as intimidating as a kitten. Hermione wanted to believe him when he'd said his attitude on blood had changed, but she still wasn't so sure. If Hermione wasn't sure there was no way Harry or Ron would be sure.

Harry would be more apt to support Hermione in this new project than Ron. As much as he'd despised Malfoy, Harry's testimony is what had kept Malfoy and his mother out of Azkaban. Harry knew Malfoy wasn't all bad. No, it wouldn't be too much of a problem to gain Harry's support. He'd probably ask if she was sure about a million times, but he'd come around soon enough, but not without telling her to be careful about three million times.

Ron, on the other hand, would probably blow a gasket. Sure, he hadn't advocated for the young Malfoy to go to Azkaban, but he'd been more than happy to quietly step back and let Harry and Hermione defend him. Hermione was sure that Ron would eventually calm down and support her new endeavor, but it wouldn't happen without a rather lengthy fit initially.

It was weird to think about, but Ron also had the tendency to get jealous when Hermione spent time with other men whose last name didn't end in Weasley or Potter. Even though he had no reason to be jealous in this case, there was a strong possibility he would be anyway. Ron was a hothead, after all.

Actually, Hermione thought with a smile, it would be rather cute watching Ron get all worked up over her spending quality time with another man, even if it was only Malfoy. She would never admit it to anyone, but it thrilled her whenever Ron got overly protective of her, because it was proof of how much he cared about her.

Hermione sighed. Even though she knew that in the end they would both support her, she really wasn't mentally prepared to have this discussion anytime soon. She was going to the Burrow for George's birthday in a couple of weeks, and as she was staying the whole weekend she would have plenty of opportunities to pull her two best friends aside to fill them in.

Until then…well, she would have to tell Malfoy she was going to tell Harry and Ron. That conversation wasn't going to be easy, either.

* * *

Hermione ended up filling out all of her forms for her wizarding bookstores while sitting on the couch in her muggle bookstore the next day. It was rainy, so she wasn't worried about anyone catching a glimpse of the order forms for "Willow Para's History of Witches: Feminism in the Magical World" and asking odd questions.

After sending Chelsea home early because it was such a slow day, Hermione had settled behind the counter to crack open her new book on combating drug addiction.

A lot of it was stuff she could have guessed using common sense – adopting a healthy lifestyle was definitely a no brainer. Some of it was information Hermione wouldn't have thought of, such as simply reducing the amount of drugs to levels that didn't negatively affect someone's life. Hermione didn't like that idea at all, though she supposed she hadn't been wrong to leave the cigarettes after all.

She did have to admit it made a little sense, as the book mentioned that withdrawal could sometimes be fatal if too abrupt.

The option that made the most sense, of course, was rehab. The only problem with that was there was no way in hell Malfoy would ever go rehab. Even broken, defeated Malfoy had too much nonsensical pride for that, though that wouldn't stop Hermione from running the idea by him. She selfishly wished he would go with that option, seeing as it would make her life much easier. But she knew he wouldn't.

She would have to call him sometime soon.

Not today, of course. She needed to finish her book, and naturally she would need some time to plan out how she was going to deal with Malfoy the next time she saw him.

And, of course, she wanted a day or two to herself. She had a feeling she wasn't going to have a lot of those for a while, so she was set on taking advantage of them while she could.

As if on cue, Hermione's mobile phone rang.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I am a raving feminist, which is why the books Hermione orders in this chapter are about feminism. No, this fic isn't going to be preachy. I was having a hard time thinking up magical book title, and that's just what popped into my mind. Just FYI.**

**Annnd that's it for exposition! Things will get a little more exciting from here on out, promise. I know it's felt a little same-same with all of Hermione's worrying, but I'm trying to keep her as in character as possible and that means some extensive worrying and analyzing was called for. But the story is moving forward, so there will be less inner worryings (though this is Hermione, so she'll still have some). Unfortuntely for me, that means lots and lots of dialogue, which I hate (yes, I said it: I hate dialogue. That's why writing this fic is going to be a huge, huge challenge for me). Fortunately, that means lots and lots of Draco and Hermione interactions! Woooooooo!**

And yes, Draco and Hermione will eventually fall in love. Some of you were worried about the validity of their future feelings for each other, but there's no need for worrying. This is a tale that calls for a strong friendship that eventually (i.e., slowly and realistically) evolves into a relationship - there won't be any pity love. Trust me. 


	5. Was it that bad?

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, but my laptop was having some issues and spent two weeks with the computer doctor. I don't save any of my fics on a flash drive because I keep that strictly for university papers. Frankly, I'm more worried about losing an 18 page paper on Civil Rights in Louisville than fics. Needless to say, I couldn't work on this or ISHBM at all during those weeks. I was in the middle of typing chapters for both fics on my laptop, so I couldn't even just type up the next chapters on the family desktop and post it from that computer unless I wanted to start both chapters from scrap. Which I didn't. Anyway, here you go. **

* * *

"Hello?"

"Granger, where are you?" came Malfoy's agitated voice.

"What?"

"You're not at your flat."

"No, are you?"

"Yes, and you're not. Where are you?"

"At work – why are you at my place?"

"I was looking for you, obviously."

So much for having a day to herself. "Well, I won't be off for another two hours, so you might as well go back home."

"Fine. Come over when you get off," he said with a huff before hanging up.

Hermione stared at her phone, feeling mildly annoyed that he didn't even bother to say 'please' or 'goodbye.' Mostly, she was wondering what it was that had sent Malfoy looking for her. Or was he just incredibly needy?

* * *

"Here again? Maybe you are braver than I thought," Addison greeted her as he opened the door to the townhouse.

"Uh, thanks."

"Come on in. I should probably warn though, Drake's already plastered."

"Plastered?" Hermione asked as she walked through the door.

"Yeah, he started drinking as soon he got back. He was in a seriously bad mood. I'm fairly certain he demolished his room, judging by the noise."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Hell if I know. When I tried to ask he slammed the door in my face."

Hermione looked anxiously at the staircase. "You think he'll let me in?"

Addison shrugged. "If he's expecting you, yes. If not, then I doubt it. Is he expecting you?"

"Yeah," she sighed.

"Well, come on, then," he said, starting up the stairs. "No use in delaying the unpleasant, is there?"

"No," she sighed again, following him.

When they reached Malfoy's door, she took a deep, bracing breath before hesitantly knocking a few times.

No response.

She knocked a little harder.

"Piss off," Malfoy grunted through the door.

Hermione tried the doorknob, which turned out to be locked.

"I said piss off, Addison," he slurred. Addison snorted.

"Malfoy, it's me," Hermione said firmly, hoping he wouldn't reply with another slurred 'piss off.'

He just groaned instead.

"Are you going to let me in?"

No response.

"Malfoy, let me in or I'll let myself in," she said loudly.

No response.

"Fine. But don't blame me when your roommate starts asking you weird questions about me," she said loudly.

"What?" Addison asked in confusion.

"Just wait," she muttered.

Sure enough, not a moment later she could hear Malfoy stumbling across his room to open the door.

"You," he said sluggishly as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"You invited me, remember?" she said slowly and clearly.

"Vaguely," he slurred. "Right then…you can come in. Addison can piss off."

Addison rolled his eyes but left without a word. Hermione brushed past Malfoy to enter his bedroom, which was in worse shape than she'd previously seen. Malfoy had clearly thrown quite a fit.

"Malfoy, have a seat," she said briskly.

He clumsily glared at her before shutting his door and stumbling back to his bed.

Without saying anything, Hermione pulled out her wand and cast a Sobering Charm on him, mentally thanking herself for having looked it up prior to a New Years celebration that Ron had promised would be out of control (and he was right).

"Better?" she asked, watching him closely.

His eyes slowly regained focus. For a moment he just stared at her, before scowling.

"I'll take that as a yes," Hermione said, looking around for his desk chair. Unfortunately for the chair, it had become a victim of Malfoy's fit and lay in pieces. Hermione quickly repaired it with her wand before sitting.

"What was all this for, then?" she asked, gesturing to his destructed room.

"I don't want to talk abo-"

"Don't even bother finishing that sentence, Malfoy," she warned. "Just tell me what happened."

He scowled at her for another few seconds before his face fell into misery.

"I was out today and I – I saw Pansy."

"Parkinson?"

"Yeah," he said sadly.

"So?"

He didn't answer, just looked at the floor. Hermione immediately suspected that he had left a few crucial details of his tale.

"Malfoy, what happened with you and Pansy before you left?" she finally asked, wincing as an all too familiar look of pain flashed across his face.

"I just – I didn't tell her before I left," he sighed miserably.

"Were you two together?"

He shrugged. "Not officially, with everything that was going on, but yeah, basically."

"Basically?"

"She was always telling me how much she loved me and I – I didn't say anything to her before I went," he continued. "I was too selfishly concerned about myself that I just abandoned her without a word or explanation."

Hermione had never been a big fan of Pansy Parkinson, but she couldn't help feeling sorry for her at that moment.

"And then today, when I was out…I saw her," he sighed.

"So this is all just from seeing her?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what?"

"She was – she was with Nott and they – they were _together_," he stammered.

Hermione, as much as she pitied him, felt a little uncomfortable at the sight of the tears pooling in his eyes. "So you – I suppose you still have feelings for her?"

His response was to pathetically crawl under his covers and put his head under his pillow.

She heard the muffled sounds of him crying. As odd as it still was for her to see Draco Malfoy in such a state, she resisted the urge to quietly flee the scene. Instead, she sat in his chair and watched him with sad eyes until his sobs eventually subsided and his breathing slowed as he drifted to sleep.

Sure he was asleep, Hermione stood up and silently inspected the damage to his room. There were shards of broken glass littered near the door, clearly the remains of a bottle of alcohol that had been thrown against the wall. A lamp looked as if it met the same fate, and there were broken picture frames scattered on the floor beneath the window (which was cracked). All in all, it wasn't as bad as it could have been, as there hadn't been too many things left for him to destruct after Hermione's previous Vanishing.

Hermione fixed the window and the lamp with a few flicks of her wand, followed by a quick Vanishing of the broken glass and picture frames. Hermione bent to pick up the frames. The first one contained a photograph of a family picture, with all three Malfoy's scowling at the camera, the youngest throwing in a few sneers. The second picture was a group picture of the Slytherin Quidditch team haughtily smirking. The last was a picture of Pansy, giggling and waving at the camera, presumably being held by Malfoy. Hermione quietly set the other two frames onto the desk and continued to stare at the picture of Pansy Parkinson. The girl has always been quite unpleasant towards Hermione, but she'd clearly adored Malfoy, and he obviously felt very strongly about her. Pansy had been horrible at Hogwarts, but Hermione didn't think she'd deserved being abandoned by the boy she was in love with without a word.

Hermione stared at the jovial girl in the picture. Even though she was here to help Malfoy, she felt something close to pride that Pansy, as awful as she'd been toward Hermione at school, was able to move on. Not all girls turned into a blubbering, irreparable mess when the boy they loved left them.

Hermione placed the frame carefully onto the desk. With one last glance at the lump of blankets and pillows that Malfoy was sleeping under, she silently exited the room, shutting the door as quietly as possible behind her.

She couldn't leave just yet. She still had some things she needed to discuss with Malfoy, and now she felt obligated to demand he tell her any other bits he'd left out of his story.

She slowly sat down to lean against the wall next to Malfoy's bedroom door, fully prepared to sit there for a good hour or two thinking things through until he woke up. She'd barely started planning what she'd say when the door across from Malfoy's opened.

Addison looked rather surprised to see her sitting against the wall. "What are you doing?"

"He fell asleep."

"And you're not leaving?"

"I still need to talk to him about a few things."

"Oh," he said. "Well, I actually need to talk to you about a few things."

It was Hermione's turn to look surprised. "Huh?" she replied intelligently.

"Come on, I'll make tea or something," he said, offering his hand to help her up.

She took it, feeling apprehensive about what he could have to talk to her about.

Hermione followed Addison down the stairs wordlessly. Her mind wasn't so quiet, though: she was frantically forming a defense strategy if he, for some reason, decided to go on the attack and demand she back off and stay away; she was desperately trying to decide how much of their past she was willing to share if pressured; she was vaguely wondering if he was going to make Earl Gray; she was nervously coming up with questions to beg for his help; she was-

"Do you like Earl Gray?" he asked, cutting off her thoughts once they reached the kitchen.

"It's my favorite," she answered timidly.

"God, you don't have to be so nervous," he laughed as he sat at the table.

Hermione sat down next to him, self-consciously trying not to do it in a nervous manner.

"You said you knew Drake from school right?" he asked without warning.

"Yeah," she replied, a little thrown at how suddenly he'd started his line of questioning.

"How well did you know him?"

"Well, we weren't friends," she said carefully. She'd rather not reveal that they and their respective groups of friends despised each other.

"That doesn't really answer my question," he said with an amused smile.

"I knew him fairly well, all things considered."

"Okay, no point in putting it off – what happened to him?"

"What happened to him?" she echoed, caught off guard a little that he'd gone right to the question she knew was coming but was dreading.

"I mean, he can't have always been like this, right? He wasn't like this when he first moved in. Well, he was still depressed, but he hadn't gone off the deep end quite yet," he said as the teapot whistled loudly. "I just figured that since he asked you to help him out and you knew him from school that you might know what sent him into this tailspin of pathetic, inebriated self-loathing," he continued as he got up and started preparing the tea. "I asked him a few times but he never told me, so I eventually just stopped asking."

Hermione watching him prepare the tea, choosing her words carefully. "I know what happened, but I can't really tell you."

"That's what he said."

She frowned at his back. "Are you two close?"

"I've been taking care of him since he moved in two years ago," he told her as he set her tea in front of her.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Anyway, I wouldn't say we're friends. I think of him more like a highly disturbed brother."

"I see," she said, swirling her tea as she thought. She could already feel the guilt setting in – he deserved to know, but she couldn't tell him.

"So tell me, Hermione. What happened?"

"Well," she started, choosing her words wisely. "He made some mistakes when he was younger. He was misguided and being influenced by people who couldn't have cared less about him, and he made some poor choices and did some questionable acts. He regrets those decisions now," she sighed, knowing he wasn't going to be satisfied with her vague account.

"Well, _that _certainly wasn't vague at all," he grumbled.

"I'm sorry, I really can't tell you the details."

"Was it that bad?"

"Yes," she sighed again.

"But you're not going to tell me _any _details, are you?"

"I can't."

Addison sighed. "Fine. Can you at least tell me how you're planning on helping him?"

"Well, I was going to start with a lifestyle change."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for one…" Hermione trailed off, feeling a blush rise in her cheeks.

"Ah, haven't gotten that far yet?"

"It's hard to figure out how to change his lifestyle when I don't know much about his current lifestyle, aside from…well, you know. I mean, does he do anything else beside sit in bed and mope and do….you know?"

"Not really," Addison said, glancing at the ceiling. "I think he likes to brood in the park sometimes."

"Anything else?"

"I also like to brood in bars occasionally."

Hermione nearly dropped her tea in surprise as her head whipped around towards the doorway. Malfoy was there, leaning against the doorway and looking annoyed.

"I thought you were sleeping," she said lamely.

"I was. I woke up," he said irritably, scowling at her.

"Tea?" Addison asked sarcastically. Hermione resisted the urge to shoot him a scolding look.

"No. Go away."

Addison snorted but left without a word.

"Why are you still here?" he asked tiredly, not moving from his spot in the doorway.

"I wasn't done talking to you," she said, standing up.

"I don't really feel like talking anymore."

"I know. But I also know there's probably more of your story that you conveniently left out."

"Like what?"

"Follow me," Hermione ordered in a clipped voice, storming past him.

"Granger, where are you going?" he asked, hurrying to follow her.

She didn't respond, just threw open the front door and stomped out to the porch. Malfoy appeared next to her a moment later, looking genuinely confused.

Hermione quickly glanced around the street, making sure there weren't any Muggles around who might see them. Satisfied that the only person around was a harried looking old woman chasing after her cat across the street, Hermione grabbed Malfoy's wrist and turned on the spot.

"What the hell, Granger? You can't just go around grabbing people like that and dragging them off to wherever you get the itch to visit," Malfoy grumbled, jerking his wrist out of her hand and glaring at her.

Hermione just raised her eyebrows.

"Where are we anyway?" he demanded, looking around. His eyes widened as he took in the gate in front of them and the long drive leading up to an extravagant manor house. "Why – why did you bring me here?" he asked in a choked voice, taking a step back.

"I have a rather strong feeling that you owe your mother an apology."

* * *

**A/N: I should warn you all that it might be a few weeks before I update again. I have three papers due next week (one of which is the aforementioned monster mentioned in the opening Author's Note). See, this wouldn't be a problem if I was going to university for a career that didn't require getting awesome grades to be able to get into a competitve secondary education program for graduate school...ah, but that's my life. Must. Get. As. **

**Anyway, feel free to leave a review. They really are great inspiration to fic faster!**


	6. Yeah, I promise

**A/N: **Whew, this chapter had some incredibly difficult parts to write. I also had three papers due this week. I'm not gonna lie, I found it hard to be motivated to finish this today after having churned out a total of 38 pages worth of college papers this week.

* * *

"I have a rather strong feeling that you owe your mother an apology."

"No-"

"Malfoy," Hermione said in the most patient, gentle voice she could muster. "I know you're probably upset that I brought you here, but after you told me what happened with and Pansy, I had a feeling she wasn't the only person you'd slighted when you left. Would I be right in assuming that you left against your mother's wishes?"

He swallowed thickly, his wide eyes fixed on the gate in front of them. "You could say that."

"Tell me what happened," she urged. Hermione was fairly certain that she had the general idea as to what had happened, but she thought Malfoy voicing his mistakes to someone would be good for him in the long run.

"It's not too complicated," he muttered. "I told her I was leaving, she wanted me to stay. She begged for me to stay, actually, reminding me of all the sacrifices she'd made for me and how some of them could have gotten her killed." He paused, clearly struggling to maintain some sense of composure.

"But you left," she prompted after a long silence.

"Yeah," he said with a biting, humorless laugh. "She took it as well as you could imagine – cried that I didn't love her, that I didn't care about all that she'd done for me. It only took her a few days to track me down at Addison's."

"She went to see you in London?" Hermione asked, pretending to sound as if that would surprise her.

"Yes. She tried to get me to come back with her, but I refused. She owled me nearly every day for a month, but after not receiving any replied she eventually stopped," he said, his face strangled with shame. I don't – I wouldn't forgive me if I were in her place."

"Don't be so sure."

"How would you even know?" he bit out, his voice suddenly filled with anger. "What do you know about betraying your parents' love?"

"More than you think, actually," Hermione said calmly.

"Oh, really?" he said sarcastically. "Do enlighten me then, Granger."

"During the summer after sixth year, I erased my parents' memories of me without warning them and had them relocated to Australia for their own safety, unaware that they had a daughter." She had said it with a calm, matter-of-fact tone, knowing that if she sounded defensive he would probably just get more angry and defensive himself. It had been hard to stay calm, though, considering how hard it was for her to think about the subject of her parents.

"You – you erased their memories of you?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"That's what I said."

He studied her for a moment before asking quietly, "Did they forgive you?"

"They will."

"You mean…"

"That I haven't had the guts to face them yet? Yes, that's what I mean."

"But," he started, looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "But that's different. You did that for their safety. What I did was out of selfishness and cowardice."

"It's the same principle," she waved him off. "I could have warned them, at least, so that when I returned their memories they would know they had agreed to it, that we had discussed it as a family first and I hadn't just blindsided them."

"Still, it was all for their own good."

"Yes, and I'm sure that they will see that and forgive me," she said a little sadly. "But there's a small chance they'll consider what I did as a betrayal of their trust. That small chance that they'll resent me for it is why I haven't been able to face them yet."

Malfoy was still looking at her strangely. Hermione knew it was because he felt odd that she had admitted something so personal to him, which he clearly hadn't been expecting out of this deal. She hadn't really expected it either, to be honest. She didn't like discussing her parents with anyone, and she certainly hadn't planned on discussing it with Malfoy. She had decided to share it with him in hopes that he'd realize that she really did understand how hard it was for him to face his mother and that she really had brought him here with good intentions.

"I think," he started slowly, resentment creeping into his voice, "it's a little unfair of you to bring me here to apologize to my mother when you haven't been up to do doing the same with your parents."

"It's different."

"I thought you said it was the same principle?"

"It is. But it's different."

"What? How?"

"Well, as you said, what I did wasn't out of selfishness. I also haven't gone off the deep end, as you have – I don't _need _to deal with my parents as a step in regaining my physical and mental health, because for me it's the other way around. You, on the other hand, can't start to forgive yourself before you take this step," she said firmly yet kindly.

Malfoy appeared to be trying to think of a counterargument, but his facial expression let Hermione know that he found her argument both logical and unarguable.

"Fine," he growled, looking a bit like he wanted to hit her. "If this doesn't go over well it's your fault. Oh, and you better be here when I get back so I can let you know how much you _didn't_ help me by bringing me here." He glared at her for another moment, apparently hoping that she might change her mind or at least act a bit ashamed, intimidated, or apologetic. When Hermione only looked back at him with a patient gaze, he finally stormed off towards the gate.

Hermione watched him go, feeling a bit anxious in an optimistic sort of way. As soon as Malfoy was through the gates it became clear that his anger at her was melting into extreme nervousness. Indeed, he stopped to smoke a cigarette about halfway up the drive, shifting nervously. For a split second Hermione was sure he was about to turn around and walk right back towards her, but as soon as she'd thought it he started towards the manor again. He only paused for a moment when he reached the door before entering.

Letting out a sigh of relief that he was actually going to go through with this, Hermione transfigured a rock into a comfortable sort of chair and waited.

Hermione really hoped she'd done the right thing by bringing him here. She hadn't gone to his place earlier planning on making him face his mother (she doubted she would ever actually _plan _on willingly returning to a place where she had been tortured mercilessly). It had been an on-the-spot plan that had formed, probably out of her subconscious guilt she felt about her parents, and she'd felt strongly enough about the importance of Malfoy apologizing to his mother that she'd acted on it.

She had assured Malfoy that their situations were different, but she did feel a bit like a hypocrite. She had planned on retrieving her parents as soon as the war had ended and had purchased a ticket and everything, but she had been too terrified to even get in the cab to go the airport. Harry and Ron had even offered to go with her if she though that would help, but she had declined in cowardice. Hermione was sure her parents wouldn't be angry at her and if they were it would be fleeting, but the small chance that they would resent her was enough to scare her into not going to Australia.

For a brief moment, Hermione selfishly wondered if Malfoy being successful with his mother might be encouraging enough for her to face her parents.

No, this wasn't the time for her to be selfish. Malfoy was in a much, much worse state than she was – he needed his mother's forgiveness much more than Hermione needed her parents' forgiveness at the moment. Hermione needed to time work up her Gryffindor courage to face her parents; Malfoy needed to face his mother to find courage to live.

Merlin, that sounded cliché.

* * *

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione grunted and snuggled further into her chair.

"Miss Granger?"

"It's _Ms._," Hermione grumbled. Frowning, she opened her eyes to see who had so rudely interrupted her nap (she'd gotten quite bored and ended up dozing off after about an hour of waiting).

A small house elf stood in front of her, nervously fidgeting with the hem of its white tunic.

"Yes?"

"The Mistress would like to see you."

Suddenly, Hermione felt wide awake.

"Excuse me?"

"The Mistress asked Dotty to find you and ask you inside."

"Really? Are you sure?"

Dotty nodded earnestly. "Yes, the Mistress was very clear!"

"Oh, alright…" Hermione stood up clumsily.

"This way, Ms. Granger!"

Hermione dutifully followed the elf, feeling horribly nervous and fighting the urge to turn on her heel and Disapparate as fast as she could away from Malfoy Manor. It was one thing to wait outside the gates of the place she once was tortured, but it was another thing to go inside.

Dotty led Hermione through the front doors, turning to go down a hallway to the left. There were an endless number of doors in the hallway, and Hermione was grateful that they weren't headed in the direction that led to the drawing room.

"In here, Ms. Granger!"

The elf gestured for Hermione to enter the last doorway on the right side of the hallway. Hermione forced a smile as thanks before Dotty began walking back in the direction they'd come from.

Hermione didn't move for a few minutes, just stood there and stared at the door. She wasn't entirely what to expect from the Malfoy matriarch. After all, Narcissa Malfoy had been in the same room as Hermione when Bellatrix was torturing her. While the youngest Malfoy had kept his eyes fixed on anything that wasn't his former classmate, Narcissa had watched impassively as Bellatrix tortured Hermione.

After the final battle at Hogwarts, Hermione had only seen Narcissa Malfoy once. Hermione had attended the Malfoy hearings with Harry and Ron. Lucius had gotten 40 years and Azkaban, but Narcissa had been only been put on probation thanks to her actions during the battle.

_She saved Harry, _Hermione reminded herself.

With that thought giving her the push of courage she needed, Hermione took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Ah, there you are. I was beginning to think Dotty hadn't been able to find you."

Narcissa Malfoy was across the room, seated in a lush armchair and watching her curiously. Her son was on the couch adjacent to her, looking incredibly annoyed.

"Um, hello," Hermione said awkwardly.

"Have a seat, Ms. Granger," Narcissa said imperiously, gesturing to the couch where her son was sitting.

Hermione nervously sat on the couch next to Malfoy, who was glaring at his mother.

"I know it must be difficult you for you to be back her, Ms. Granger, but I felt I must thank you," Narcissa said, not appearing all that bothered at just how uncomfortable it was for Hermione to be sitting in house where she was once tortured by a crazy bitch.

Hermione glanced at Malfoy, who was still glaring at his mother.

"My son has made some questionable choice in the past few years," Narcissa continued, not acknowledging Hermione's lack of response. "I wasn't sure how long it would be before he would come back here, or if he would at all. After what he's told me, I think it's safe to assume the latter would have become a reality had it not been for your intervention."

Again, Hermione said nothing.

"Thank you for bringing son here. I understand he had little choice in the matter, but he came nonetheless, and that's what's important."

"Er, your welcome," Hermione said timidly.

"Can we go now?" Malfoy said abruptly, earning him a disapproving look from his mother.

"If you must," Narcissa said in a clipped voice, rising from her seat.

"Yeah, we must," Malfoy said, standing up.

Hermione stood up awkwardly. "Um, goodbye," she mumbled, following Malfoy towards the door.

"Draco, remember to keep your promise," Narcissa said sharply, causing Malfoy to pause at the doorway. "You will, won't you?"

"Yeah, I promise," he grumbled.

"Good. I'll see you next weekend."

He nodded tersely at his mother before striding out the door, pulling Hermione with him.

Hermione gently pried her wrist out of his grasp as he stormed down the hallway. "I take it she forgave you, then?"

"Yeah, she did."

"Then why are you so mad?"

"I love my mother, but she's a meddler," he growled as they passed through the front doors.

"What?"

"Well, for one, after I admitted that you forced me to come here she insisted on bringing you inside."

"I guess you didn't want her to?"

"No, I thought it would be awkward and uncomfortable. Was I wrong?"

"Well, no, it was unbearably awkward," Hermione admitted.

"And I didn't think you'd appreciate going in there again, after last time."

"I didn't," Hermione admitted again. "But that's not your problem."

"Whatever. It sucked."

"And what was that bit about a promise-"

"Nothing."

"A promise usually isn't nothing."

"I told you, she's a meddler. And it's nothing," he bit out as they walked through the gates. "Don't, okay?" he pleaded, cutting her off before she had the chance to ask another prying question.

"Fine," she sighed. "But if you want to talk about-"

"I don't. Can we please just go now?"

Without another look at the Manor, Hermione grabbed his hand and tuned on the spot.

* * *

**A/N: **I would like to apologize for dropping the bombshell about Hermione's parents with no lead up. I realized as I was typing it up that I'd completely forgotten to put any hints in earlier chapters, and I even considered going back to edit in some hints in the first chapter or two. But I decided not to. Too much work, and at the end of the day...I can just apologize in an author's note. Sorry!

And yes, I know the scene inside Malfoy Manor was short and awkward. It was supposed to be, I assure you. I tried a different, more drawn out version but it felt all kinds of wrong, so I kept the short version. It's still not as awkward as I wanted it to be, but it'll do.


	7. Good, Tell Them Everything

**A/N: **Sorry for the wait. Life happened.

**Disclaimer:** The only thing that's mine is the plot.

* * *

Hermione didn't hear from him for three days.

She wasn't too surprised, since there was a good chance he was still feeling a bit angry at her for forcing him to face his mother. Even though Narcissa had clearly forgiven him (which Hermione knew she would), Malfoy had seemed quite distressed over something that had transpired in their meeting. Hermione had an inkling that whatever this 'promise' was that Malfoy had made was behind is distress.

Hermione was definitely curious about this promise. Even though she knew it was none of her business, Hermione was a bit annoyed that Malfoy had been unwilling to fill her in, considering their…er, relationship.

Regardless, Hermione was starting to get antsy at Malfoy's non-presence. So she felt both relieved and annoyed when she arrived home from work on the third day since visiting the Manor to find Malfoy leaning against her door.

He looked marginally less pissed off than the last time she'd seen him, and once again he was violating her building's no-smoking restriction. Hermione's eyes flickered up to his hair.

"You got a haircut," she said.

"Yeah, my mother made me promise to cut it," he mumbled around his cigarette.

"Is that the promise she was talking about?"

"N- uh, yeah…"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she prodded him out of the way so she could unlock her door. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I was feeling a bit twitchy and decided to come here rather than steal Addison's liquor," he said, following her into her apartment and stamping his cigarette out on her counter.

"And what were doing the last three days whenever you felt _twitchy_?"

"Stealing Addison's liquor."

"You shouldn't joke about this."

"Who said I was joking?"

Hermione groaned. "Malfoy, I had _almost_ been impressed by your proactive avoidance of alcohol."

"Hey, you could have come over and made sure I was alright after forcing me to visit my mother!"

"You're right, I should have," Hermione admitted. "But you need to be willing to help yourself, Malfoy. I can't do everything for you."

"I came here today, didn't I?"

"Fair enough," Hermione conceded.

Malfoy smirked in triumph, then looked around her kitchen area. "Do you have any whiskey, by chance?"

"No," she said truthfully. "And if I did I wouldn't give you any."

"Of course not," he scowled. "Do you mind if I watch the telly, then?"

"Go ahead," she sighed.

Hermione watched Malfoy skulk towards her couch, once again wondering at how weird this entire situation was. Is this how it was going to be from now on – Malfoy showing up at her flat, hanging round in her sitting room watching the telly?

Malfoy reached to pick the remote off the end table, but paused.

"Something wrong?" Hermione asked, walking up to see if her remote was broken.

"Is this them – your parents?" he asked, picking up a framed photograph.

"Yeah," she answered sadly. "That was taken a few weeks before – you know."

"You look like your dad," he said, glancing at her. "Except for the hair."

"Uh, yeah, I suppose."

"Why do you live here?" he asked suddenly, putting the picture back on the table.

"What do you mean?" she asked, perplexed at the sudden question.

"Why do you live in Muggle London and work in a Muggle bookstore?"

"What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?"

"What's that?"

"Never mind," Hermione said, sighing again.

"Why didn't you mention that you were doing the same thing I was?"

"I'm not. Not really, anyway."

"But you live here and you work-"

"I own a chain of Wizarding bookstores, too. And I still have all my friends from the magical world and I still see them."

"Owning a chain isn't very involved, and I would have thought you'd be living as close as possible to those two thugs of yours."

"It's not, and they're not thugs," Hermione said patiently. "I just wanted some space away after everything that happened. My entire experience with the magical world had been so hectic and dangerous and involved and war torn…I just needed a break from it all."

"A break?"

"I spent ten years having my life defined war and my best friend's fate. I needed to be independent for a bit, and I thought the best way to do that would be to put some distance between myself and the magical community. Other than my friends, of course."

"So you're – you're upset because Potter stole your adolescence?"

"No – of course not!" Hermione sputtered, horrified at the suggestion. "No – that was a bad way to say it. I'm not upset about anything that happened, not at all, and especially not at Harry. I just needed a break so I could focus on me for a while. I never really got the chance to just focus on myself before with everything that was going on."

"I see," Malfoy said, looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "So now I'm ruining your break?"

"No, you're not ruining it," Hermione insisted.

"That's alright, I get it," he said, suddenly cold. "You wanted some time to yourself, and I barged in on it."

"No, Malfoy, stop assuming things! I didn't say any of that!" Hermione pleaded, reeling over his sudden mood change.

"But it's the truth, isn't it? I'm disturbing your peace and quiet and you're going to end up resenting me for it more than you were already going to, like how you resent Potter now," he said angrily.

"No! I do _not _resent Harry and I'm not going to resent _you_! God, would you _please _stop putting words in my mouth?"

"They were there, you just weren't saying them!"

"No, they weren't," she said firmly. "I don't think of you as ruining my break!"

"Then what do you think of me as?"

"You're just – you're part of it now, and that's as much as I know at this point," she said truthfully. For all she knew, he could end up ruining her break if this all didn't work out well. She wasn't going to say that, though, seeing as it wasn't a certain truth.

He seemed to cool off a bit at that, studying her face in what was probably an attempt to detect insincerity. "Okay," he finally said, turning away from her to reach for the remote again. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that these extreme mood swings wouldn't be permanent.

_Permanent._ What a strange concept, that Malfoy could end up permanently part of her life in any capacity.

She watched him settle onto her couch before switching the telly on, immediately flipping on a football match. Hermione was not a sports fan, but after Malfoy's recent determination to get her to admit that he was ruining her life she felt she should probably join him. She wasn't going to kid herself and actually watch the match, but she'd compromise and sit in the armchair next to the couch and do some paperwork for her various stores.

After about thirty minutes of filling out order forms and reading through inventory reports, Hermione glanced at Malfoy. He hadn't made any type of reaction to what he was watching, just sitting there and staring blankly at the screen.

"Malfoy, do you even like football?"

"No," he said flatly.

"Then why are you watching it?"

"Well until the Wizarding world wises up and makes watching Quidditch matches available through a television or a similar magical contraption, this is the closest I can get to being able to watch a real sport."

Hermione barely had time to register how absurd it was that _Draco Malfoy_ had basically just admitted that Muggles were in at least one way superior to witches and wizards before she heard the familiar rushing sound of someone Flooing into her fireplace. She jumped up in trepidation, scattering her papers all over the floor and turned to see Ginny staring, eyes wide and mouth hung open, at the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting on Hermione Granger's couch.

"What the – Hermione, what the hell is Malfoy doing here?" Ginny said, snapping out of her state of disbelief to glare at the blond man on the couch.

Said man, Hermione noted unsurprisingly, just stared blankly back at the redhead.

"Um, it's a long story. We should talk," Hermione said, gesturing Ginny to follow her into her bedroom.

"Okay, out with it," Ginny said immediately as soon as she had shut the bedroom door and dropped her bag on the floor. "What is going on?"

Hermione patiently recounted the whole story to Ginny, who, for her part, listened attentively (if a little impatiently).

"Do Harry and Ron know about this?"

"Not yet."

"Are you going to tell them?"

"Yes, of course! I didn't want to tell them too soon because I didn't want them to try and convince me to not to help him."

"They still will, you know," Ginny sniffed. "He's a pig."

"Ginny-"

"You really think that he's going to change? Isn't there some Muggle saying about teaching an old dog new tricks?"

"He's not that old, Gin. And humans have bigger brains than dogs, so they have a better capacity to learn new tricks."

"What about old habits living hard?"

"It's dying hard, and that doesn't mean it's impossible," Hermione explained.

"Maybe not impossible, but still pretty damn hard."

"Yeah, I know."

"I mean, it's Malfoy. _Malfoy_. Do you really think it's worth the effort?" Ginny demanded.

"He deserves a chance," Hermione said quietly. "Everyone does."

"But it's _Draco Malfoy._ Don't you remember what his father did to me when I was eleven?"

"That was his father, Ginny. His father's in jail where he belongs."

"Dumbledore died because of him!"

"Dumbledore planned his own death."

"That doesn't change Malfoy's intentions!"

"He wouldn't have done it and you know it, Ginny," Hermione said firmly. "He's different now."

"How different can he really be, Hermione? Be realistic!"

"He's trying, Ginny! He's the one who came to _me_ for help! Doesn't that count for something for you?"

Ginny glared at her, grinding her teeth.

"Look, you don't have to agree with me here, but you can not tell Harry and Ron?"

"For the record, I don't agree with you, but it's your decision so I'll stay out of it. And I don't think spouses are supposed to keep secrets."

"It'll only be for a week and half. I was going to tell them at George's party next weekend."

"Okay, fine. But you owe me," Ginny grumbled.

"Thanks." Hermione sighed in relief. "So, did you need something?"

"Huh?"

"Well, you obviously didn't come here to confront me about Malfoy considering you had no idea about him, so you must have had a reason for popping in."

"Oh, right. I got something for you," Ginny said, perking up a little bit and reaching into her bag. "Should help with that frizz. George fiddled around a bit with that old stuff you used to use and came up with a new and improved formula," she said, pulling out a canister of hair product.

"I don't really need any – hey!" Ginny had sprayed the stuff before Hermione had finished her sentence. She could feel her hair defluffing and defrizzing before she had finished glaring at Ginny. "Come on, you know I don't even do my hair enough for that."

"It's free. Don't complain, just save it for the two formal occasions you'll attend in the next year."

"Alright, thanks."

* * *

Hermione followed Ginny out of her room and wished her goodbye before the redhead Flooed out. She figured now would be a good time to tell Malfoy that his old rivals would soon be learning about his newfound presence in Hermione's life and the circumstances involved.

"Malfoy, I need to tell you something," she said, turning towards him.

Malfoy, who hadn't moved an inch, diverted his attention from the television to look back at her.

"Okay, so you should probably know that I'm going to have to tell Harry and Ron about you and me. I mean, about this situation."

"Why?" he asked, stirring out of his state of disinterest to look a bit irritated.

"They're my best friends, Malfoy."

"What's your point?"

"Don't start with that, Malfoy. They're my best friends and we don't keep secrets from each other."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "Make an exception."

"No."

"Why? You know they won't let you continue being around me."

"It's not a matter of them _letting _me," she said heatedly.

"What, you think they'll jump up and down with excitement and offer to help?"

"Don't be silly."

"They're not going to like it and you know it."

"Yes, I'm aware that two people who hate your guts won't like that they're best friend is hanging round with you."

"Then why even bother telling them?"

"Because they should know!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration. "They're my best friends and it would be wrong for me to keep this from them. No, they're not going to like it, but they would like it even less if they I didn't tell them and they found out anyway."

After they glared at each other for another few moments, Malfoy finally relented.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Do it."

"I'm going to."

"Good, tell them everything."

"I will."

"Yeah, good. You should even wear your hair like that when you tell them. They'll be too busy laughing at you to care about me."

* * *

**A/N: **Why yes, I did have Ginny spray a hair product on Hermione just so Malfoy could make a joke about her hair. Cheap shot? Indeed, but I happen to endorse cheap shots.

As always, reviews are lovely.


	8. Not Yet, Anyway

**A/N: **Sorry for the wait! That pesky thing called life happened. Again. But I have two days of class left for the semester which means more time for ficcing!

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it isn't mine. The only thing that's mine is the plot.

* * *

"Can I ask for a favor?"

"No."

"You didn't even hear it!"

"That's because I know what you're going to ask, Malfoy. The answer's still no."

Malfoy scowled, slumping into her couch in defeat. Hermione was leaving for the Burrow for George's birthday in a few minutes, and Malfoy had clearly decided to make one last ditch effort to convince her not to divulge Malfoy's situation to his old school rivals.

"You're unreasonable," he grumbled.

"Why does it bother you so much? They're not going to come beat your door down and hex you for associating with me," Hermione said, sitting across from him. "I doubt they're even going to see you any more than they already do – which is never."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is it?"

He turned his head away from her, and Hermione suddenly realized what it was: he was embarrassed. For a brief moment Hermione felt the urge to grant him his favor. That was soon followed by feeling plain sympathy, in the next moment she was pleased he'd starting showing less signs of total ambivalence since she told him she was going to tell Harry and Ron, and then she came back to sympathy.

"Look, it's going to be okay," she said gently once he finally looked back at her. "I promise."

* * *

"This is not okay."

Hermione sighed. Ron, as she'd expected, was not dealing with the information that she was spending time with Malfoy very well. Harry wasn't either, he just wasn't being quite as vocal. She'd waited as long as possible to bring the topic up, not wanting to put a damper on the birthday celebration. But after Bill and Fleur left she's finally pulled them out past the garden and dropped the clearly unwelcome news.

"Ron, he's different now," she insisted. "He's not the same bullying prick he was back in school."

"He's still _Malfoy, _Hermione. You know as soon as he snaps out of whatever he's going though he's going to go right back to the way he used to be!"

"You don't know that!"

"And do you know he won't?" Ron snapped back.

"I'm sure he won't," she said firmly as she ignored the niggling in her brain that thought Ron had a point.

"And I _know _he will, Hermione, and Harry agrees with me," Ron replied forcefully. "Right, Harry?"

"Well, yeah, kind of," Harry said, almost apologetically. "Hermione, he was awful to all three of us, and that was least of his issues."

"He's different now, I swear, Harry! He regrets it, all of it!"

"Or he says he does, anyway," Ron snorted.

"Why, Ron?" Hermione demanded. "Why would he lie about that?"

"Because he's _Draco Malfoy, _Hermione. Merlin, what are you on that you think he's actually changed?"

"Ron-" Harry tried to interject.

"You're supposed to be the smart one! What the hell did he put in your pumpkin juice to make you believe his lies? Or are you just being thick?"

"Ron!" Harry nearly shouted. "Come on, don't go there."

Hermione resisted the urge to slap him as tears sprung up in her eyes. "You don't even know him!" she seethed.

"And you do?" Ron said, ignoring Harry.

"Better than you!"

"Yeah, I'm sure you know his little act real well," Ron seethed.

"Ron, be logical! Why would he have to gain from acting?" Hermione demanded.

"Nothing innocent, I'm sure," Ron growled.

Hermione blushed with what was mostly anger. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"It's not being ridiculous when it's Malfoy we're talking about," Ron said, rolling his eye. "You _know _he's never done anything for nice, pleasant reasons. This only going to end up backfiring on you in some way or another!"

"You think I haven't considered that?"

"Well, from my point of view, it seems as if you didn't have your full wits about you when you were doing the considering."

"Ron, don't-" Harry cut in.

"All I'm saying is that this is _Malfoy _we're talking about," Ron said vehemently. "His record speaks for itself. I don't trust him – I don't think any of us should trust him. Come on, Hermione, you know what he's capable of reverting back to!"

"Ron," Hermione implored, fighting tears again. "Do you not think I can handle myself?"

"We know you can handle yourself, Hermione," Harry said before Ron could retort. "But we just don't trust him."

"I'm not asking you to trust him, I'm just asking you to trust _me_. You do trust me, right?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah," he said after a few moments thought, glancing at Ron. "I do."

Ron was glaring off to the side, arms crossed tightly across his chest.

"I'm not asking you to help me or him or anything, Ron," Hermione pleaded. "Please, just trust me on this!"

"Fine," he finally conceded. "But on one condition."

"What?"

"First sign of the old Malfoy and you let _me _deal with him," he growled.

"I second that," Harry said quickly, nodding.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, not even bothering to argue Ron's last statement.

"Oi!" came a sudden shout from the house. Hermione jumped and turned around to see George leaning out the doorway. "It's cake time!"

"Be right there!" she shouted back before turning back to Harry and Ron.

"I still don't like it," Ron grumbled, an almost sad look in his eyes.

"I know," Hermione replied solemnly.

Harry looked between them awkwardly. "Um, I'm going to go on in," he mumbled. He smiled at Hermione before leaving her alone with Ron.

"How much do you see him?"

"Nearly every day," Hermione admitted.

"You don't even see me that much anymore."

"Well, you're not mentally unstable like he is," Hermione said, hoping to get a grin.

He looked at the ground, not a grin in sight.

"You could always come by more," Hermione said after a few moments.

"Yeah," he said, looking back up at her. "Maybe I'll do that."

Hermione smiled at him and was relieved when he smiled back.

"If I run across him I can't promise I won't pummel him, you know that?"

Hermione laughed. "Ron!"

"I'm serious!"

"Whatever, let's go in. I don't think Fred would approve of us missing his cake."

* * *

"So how did it go? I heard yelling," Ginny asked. The redhead had cornered Hermione after the cake, looking impossibly curious.

"You heard yelling, alright," Hermione said darkly. "As you can imagine, they were not pleased."

"I told you they wouldn't be," Ginny chirped.

"Well, Harry wasn't too bad. Ron was the one doing most of the shouting."

"Figures," Ginny rolled her eyes. "But you can't blame him, really. He almost can't help that hot head of his, especially when it comes to you."

Hermione said nothing.

"I mean, you guys have a history, so there's always going to be that extra bit of protectiveness when it comes to you. And he obviously still has feelings for you."

Hermione sighed. "Yeah, I know," she said, realizing she hadn't thought about her relationship with Ron at all in the past few weeks. She'd been so distracted with Malfoy that she'd forgotten to be annoyed at Ron's noncommittal nature.

"He clearly does not like the idea of you spending so much time with another man, even if it is Malfoy. Though he has no right to lay any sort of claim on you, considering how indecisive he's been about you two. Hmm, you think the prospect of a new man in your life will finally make him commit?" Ginny mused.

"I guess we'll see," Hermione answered quietly, wondering vaguely if that was what she still wanted. "But honestly, it's not like that with Malfoy, Ginny," Hermione added quickly.

"Not yet, anyway," Ginny said under her breath.

"_Excuse me_?" Hermione sputtered.

"Never mind," Ginny said with a grimace. "We better get back, I think it's time for presents."

* * *

Hermione was surprised to see Malfoy still sitting in the exact same spot when he returned home, seeing as it was nearing three in the morning. Crookshanks was on the other end of the couch, glaring at Malfoy.

"What are you still doing here?" she asked, dusting some ash from her arms as she stepped out of her fireplace.

"Had to know how it went, didn't I?" he replied with an attempt at nonchalance, though he was unable to keep the curiosity out of his eyes.

"Well, how do you think it went?" she shot back sarcastically.

"I think they were pissed."

"They were. Very much so."

He looked pleased.

"There was a lot of yelling and accusations. It wasn't pretty."

"I'm sure it wasn't," he said, almost cheerily.

"They even threatened physical violence against you."

Hermione nearly fell over when he actually smiled.

"That doesn't bother you?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Because I know they won't."

"I'm pretty sure they would, actually," Hermione laughed, remembering Ron's anger.

"And I'm pretty sure you wouldn't let them," he replied without a hint of humor in his voice.

Hermione stared at him for moment, taking in his solemn expression and silently agreeing with him. It was true that she did feel somewhat protective over her former enemy now that she had seen him in such a vulnerable state, she supposed.

"What else did they say?" he asked.

"Ron called me stupid in a few variations. Harry didn't say much. Basically, they think I'm cracked for bothering with you."

He snorted. "Your friends are prats."

"Yeah, well, they came around."

"Let me guess, 'coming around' means assuring you that they trust you while also assuring they hate me and think I'm rotten?"

"Basically, yeah," Hermione conceded. "But they've pretty much always felt that way about you, haven't they?"

Malfoy snorted again. "Yeah, I don't think it matters that it was me so much as an outsider infringing into they're special girls' life."

_He clearly does not like the idea of you spending so much time with another man, even if it is Malfoy_. Hermione looked down at her shoes, trying to get Ginny's voice out of her head but failing miserably.

"It's late," she finally said, glancing at her watch.

"Yeah…I can't go home," Malfoy said, looking annoyed.

"Why not?"

"Addison's having a party."

"Oh," Hermione said, feeling awkward. "This late?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "It didn't even start until about an hour ago. That's part of the reason I ended up not going back earlier."

"Oh," she said again. "That's good, I guess."

Awkward as it was, she meant it. It showed progress, at least, that he was taking the initiative to avoid an environment that was dangerous for him.

"Do you mind?" he asked, gesturing at her couch. Crookshanks hissed at him.

"No, of course not," Hermione replied, somewhat falsely. Yes, she wanted to make sure he wasn't in a toxic environment and yes, she was really wanted to encourage him taking initiative. But part of her brain was frantically reminding her that this was still Draco Malfoy and she hadn't known the "trying to reform" Malfoy for that long.

Another part of her brain was repeating Ginny's pseudo-warning, _Not yet, anyway_.

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" he asked, looking back at the television.

"No."

He nodded his acknowledgement but didn't say anything.

"Um, I'll get some blankets and a pillow," she said awkwardly, shuffling towards the storage closet.

"Thanks."

Hermione set a blanket and a pillow on the edge of the couch. "Well, goodnight," she said.

"Night," he replied, still not looking at her.

Hermione started towards her room, but before she'd made it more than a couple steps he spoke again.

"Wait, can you take your cat with you? It's growling at me."

* * *

The next morning was somewhat awkward as expected, but not as bad as Hermione had expected. Malfoy was already up and trying to work her coffeepot by the time she got out of bed. After some obligatory "how did you sleep" and "I'm not full awake yet" small talk, Malfoy had taken her offered cup of coffee to go and was gone by noon.

The month following that night established a sort of routine for her relationship with Malfoy. He'd show up at her flat whenever he was bored and/or in a bad mood and promptly monopolize her television. He was quiet as usual for a while, but he was gradually becoming less sullen and more insulting (though not in the mean-spirited way he had been at Hogwarts). Malfoy was still prone to long silences and sudden outbursts of temper, but they were steadily declining in frequency. In a weird way, it was almost like they were friends.

Ron hadn't kept his word; she'd only seen him once since George's birthday when he'd stopped by her bookstore for a few minutes. It was disappointing, but Hermione wasn't exactly surprised. Fed up, she'd left work early one day to go see him. Frustratingly, he had not been home, Harry's, or his shop.

He obviously still wasn't okay with what she was doing. Hermione knew he wouldn't be yet, but she had hoped he wouldn't act so…personally wronged. Harry and Ginny had invited her over once and stopped by the store _three times_ since George's birthday. Neither of them liked what she was doing, but at least they weren't letting it affect their relationship with Hermione.

The difference was, of course, that all three were steering clear of her flat. Hermione knew it was because they didn't want to come across Malfoy, so she didn't take it personally – as frustrated as she was at Ron for not bothering to come see her, she didn't mind that he was avoiding her place, which was increasingly graced by the presence of Malfoy. Actually, she was quite glad of it, seeing as she was not ready for that situation yet.

So, naturally, the situation presented itself far too soon.

* * *

**A/N: **What's that? Are developments of friendship/relationship starting to occur? Why, yes. And even more so in the next chapter.


	9. Moving In is Such a Pain

**A/N: **Quick update to make up for the long wait! Next chapter shouldn't be too long of wait, either, seeing how anxious I am to write it. In fact, I debated just making this one giant super-size chapter because I didn't want to stop, but I'm trying to keep the chapters a consistent length.

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it isn't mine. The only thing that's mine is the plot.

* * *

Hermione opened her door irritably. "You said you'd be here an hour ago."

"Were you getting worried? I'm touched, Granger," Malfoy said with a sarcastic grin.

"I just appreciate punctuality," Hermione scowled.

Malfoy smirked unapologetically. "My mother made dinner. Well, she had it made, at least. Here," he thrust a large brown bag at her. "She told me to bring you the leftovers."

"That was nice of her," Hermione muttered, accepting the bag as Malfoy brushed past her through the door and earning a hiss from Crookshanks, who was perched on top of her refrigerator. She shut the door and followed him in, sniffing the bag.

"She seems to have taken a liking to you, despite the fact that she's only seen you the one time since…everything."

"She's probably just grateful that I was the catalyst that brought you back to her," Hermione pointed out as she peeked into the bag. "Mmm, cottage pie."

"Grateful, sure." He rolled his eyes as he sat at her table. "She wants me to get a job."

"You should," Hermione replied, sitting across from him and pulling out the leftover dinner. "You can't just watch my television all the time."

"Why not?" He pretended to look stricken.

"It's not healthy. You're just going to get fat if all you do is eat and sit on the couch. Do you want to get fat, Malfoy?"

He looked disgusted. "I've been doing this for years and I haven't gotten fat yet."

Hermione pursed her lips. "Yes, but you were also drunk, high, or sleeping so much that you didn't exactly eat a lot, correct?"

Malfoy's eyes darkened a bit, but he didn't refute her.

"Not all jobs are terrible, you know," she said reassuringly before shoving a bite of pie in her mouth.

"Easy for you to say, you hardly have to work at all," he scoffed.

"I work almost every day!"

"Only because you choose to actually go to work. If I were in your place I would just do all the paperwork at home and visit the shop once a week at the most to make sure the place hadn't burned down."

"Only do the paperwork? I already do enough paperwork for my chain; I would die of boredom if I only did paperwork for my shop as well."

"Ah, but if you just did the paperwork you would have time for doing more non-work related activities."

"I do plenty of non-work related activities!" Hermione protested.

"You see a Potter or a Weasley every once in a while? That hardly counts."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "So I guess allowing you to monopolize my television, terrorize my cat, and eat all my food also doesn't count?"

"Unless allowing me to monopolize your television, terrorize your cat, and eat all your food is fun for you then no, it doesn't count."

Hermione swallowed another bite of pie. "Nope, definitely not fun," she said as haughtily as she could manage. "A real chore, actually."

"Pretend all you want, Granger. I know you enjoy it."

Hermione pretended to gag on her food.

"Charming," he said sarcastically. "Anyway, I'm still not getting a job."

"Why not?"

"I neither want to nor need to."

"Well if you don't _need _the money you could always volunteer."

Malfoy looked perplexed. "Work for no pay? That exists?"

"Yeah, you know, like shelters."

"Shelters?"

"Animal shelters, homeless shelters…"

Malfoy looked appalled.

"You're such a snob, Malfoy."

"You call it snobby, I call it practicality."

Hermione scowled at him.

"For instance, it would be practical of you to just do paperwork for your little bookshop and do something worthwhile when you would otherwise be puttering around stacks of books. You have employees to do that."

"I consider my work _very _worthwhile, thank you very much," she snapped.

"Just try it for a few days."

Hermione gave him a skeptical look.

"Tomorrow," Malfoy said in a challenging tone.

"Tomorrow what?"

"Tomorrow you try skipping out on work when you meant to go in and we'll go out."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And do what?"

"I don't know, lurk about the city. Look for things to do that don't involve television, books, or disgusting cats." Crookshanks growled from atop the refrigerator.

Hermione stared at him for a moment, but couldn't think of any objections.

"Okay, fine. We'll go out."

Malfoy smirked in triumph.

* * *

"I knew I was going to regret this," Hermione sighed, earning a scowl from Malfoy, who had just tried to persuade her to get a tattoo.

"It's not my fault you don't like anything."

Hermione sighed again, sitting on a nearby bench. As she had expected, Malfoy's ideas of 'fun' were vastly different from her own. "You really thought I would go for _that?_" she asked, indicating the tattoo parlor.

"No."

"Then _why _would you bother suggesting it?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.

"Well you've said no to everything else so I thought Merlin, she has to like _something _other than books, cats, and your obnoxious hero-type friends," he replied grumpily. "Cleary, I was wrong."

Hermione glared at him. "You're one to talk."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you actually want to get a tattoo, buy an indoor hammock, or join a gym?"

Malfoy scowled at her.

"I take that as a 'no.'"

"I was willing to branch out," he sniffed.

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"It's not like you had any better ideas!"

"My idea was good! Diagon Alley-"

"Is out of the question," he growled. "I'm not going there, Granger."

Hermione had suggested going to Diagon Alley first thing, but Malfoy had adamantly refused. She'd been hoping he was ready to start getting back into the magical community a little, but she'd been wrong. Considering she didn't think he'd used a wand in ages, though, she couldn't be too surprised. They'd then spent an hour arguing what to do, each coming up with increasingly over-the-top ideas – Hermione had even gone as far to suggest going to a psychic to see if a the Muggle psychic was every bit as cracked as Trelawney.

"Fine. But we're not going to get anywhere just sitting here and disagreeing over who had the worst suggestion," Hermione snapped, standing up. "I'm going to suggest one place and _we're going to go there, _and then you can suggest one place and _we're going to go there. _Deal?"

"Can we rule out places that have already been suggested?"

"Yes."

"Fine," he said grudgingly. "Deal."

"Great. Alright, let's get something to eat," she said in an overly cheery voice.

"Wait – what?"

"Last time I checked, food was something we both liked."

"Oh. I just figured you were going to drag me somewhere unbearable, like a kitten store."

Hermione only rolled her eyes in response for starting off down the sidewalk.

"Where are we going?"

"The first place I see that serves coffee and pastries."

"That's hardly a meal."

Hermione ignored him.

"What if I want real food?"

"Don't start with that!" Hermione said immediately, rounding on him. "Now you're just _trying _to be contrary, aren't you?"

"Maybe," he smirked.

"Be contrary all you want, Malfoy, we made a deal," Hermione said, starting off again. "So quit whining."

"There was nothing in the deal about whining."

Hermione restrained herself from hitting him. If this was what a slightly improved Malfoy was like to be around then being around a back-to-normal Malfoy would be nothing short of hell.

"And if you think picking a non-offensive place will make me also pick a non-offensive place, you're wrong."

He wasn't joking. After stopping at an outdoor café for lunch (during which Malfoy scowled at his coffee and scones while badgering Hermione about considering replacing Crookshanks with a pet that wasn't evil), he'd promptly bee-lined to the nearest electronics store where he proceeded to 'browse' for nearly an hour before purchasing the most up-to-date model television.

"You know, this was _supposed_ to be an opportunity for you to do something _productive_," she hissed at him as he paid for his new purchase. "Not find a fancier way to do _nothing_."

"False," he replied. "This was supposed to be an opportunity for _you _to do something other than paperwork or arranging books that no one wants to read."

Hermione glared at him. "But all you ever do is watch television at my place and I already _have _a television."

"This one's better."

"What, so you're just going to replace any of my things that don't fit your standards?"

"I wasn't planning on it, but now that you mention it-"

"_Malfoy_!" she nearly shrieked.

The cashier shot her an amused look before handing Malfoy the large box.

"Lighten up, Granger."

Hermione gritted her teeth together. "There is so much wrong with this-" she said, gesturing towards the box, "-that I'm literally shocked and awed at how incredibly petulant you are."

"Petulant?"

"That's what I said!"

Malfoy studied her for a moment. "Right, watch this for me," he said, setting the box back down on the counter. "There were a few more things I wanted."

"What?" Hermione asked sharply. "I don't have that many electronics to replace!"

"Which is why you need more," he said with a smirk before stalking off down an aisle.

"Moving in is such a pain, isn't it?" the cashier said with a sympathetic smile. "I went through the same thing with my fiancé."

Hermione gaped at her in horror. "Oh, no! We're _not_-"

"Back." Malfoy strode up to the cashier with a video game consul under his left arm and a stack of games under his right.

"What in the name of Merlin are doing?" Hermione demanded. "Do you even know what those are or are you just trying to piss me off?"

"No and yes," Malfoy said in a self-satisfied sort of way. "Though technically it'll be something other than just watching the screen."

Hermione felt like steam was about to come out of her ears, which wasn't helped when the cashier shot her another sympathetic smile.

* * *

"You can't make this a habit," Hermione said darkly.

"You needed an upgrade," was Malfoy's infuriating response.

She was sitting on her couch watching him struggle with hooking up the new television. She'd already given him a brief lecture about overstepping boundaries, to which he barely listened before proceeding to make a mess out of the television corner.

"What exactly do expect me to do with a spare television? This place isn't exactly spacious," she pointed out.

"Shrink it or something. You're still a witch, are you not?"

"You should shrink it and take it back with you. It's the least you could do."

"Doesn't mean I will," was his only reply.

"Malfoy, do you even know how to hook up a television?"

"Not a clue. Do you?"

"No."

"Then how did you get this first one hooked up?"

"With this," she said, brandishing her wand.

"Why didn't you just do that in the first place?" he asked with a glare, dropping the wires he'd been fiddling with.

"Consider it punishment for infringing upon my personal living quarters in such a manner as you did," Hermione replied, raising her eyebrows.

"Fine," he muttered, standing up. "Go on then."

"Not so fast. If I hook it up, you're not allowed to play those-" she pointed at the stack of video games, "-tonight."

"Why not?"

"Because you've already tortured me enough today and I don't fancy sitting here watching you _not _play them correctly."

Malfoy scowled at her. "I'd figure them out."

"For someone who used to be so disparaging of Muggles you seem awfully fond their products."

He just scowled at her again. "Just hook it up, alright?"

Hermione smiled in triumph as she flicked her wand. "There," she said, setting her wand beside her on the couch. "All done."

After a few more rounds of bickering, Hermione finally let him choose what to put on the television. Similar to the rest of the day, Hermione immediately regretted this, as Malfoy had settled on some awful made-for-TV movie.

"Why is this on my television?" Hermione demanded.

"Technically, _I_ bought it."

"Then why is this on _the_ television?"

"Because it's rubbish," Malfoy said smoothly. "Really terrible."

"Let me guess: punishment for my previous punishment?"

"Of course."

"How mature."

It went on like that for the entire movie, and Hermione thought she was going to have to hex Malfoy in order to regain control of the remote. When she did, she thought she'd try and set a good example and put on a classic film that was airing. Naturally, Malfoy hated and it ("It's a classic!" "'Classic' is a euphemism for 'boring.'"). Malfoy retaliated by putting on a torturously boring documentary, and Hermione ended up falling asleep before she could even process what it was about. Unbeknownst to her, Malfoy passed out shortly after her.

Hermione was startled awake hours later (though in her unconscious state is had felt like a paltry few minutes) by a rather loud disturbance.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"

Hermione jerked into consciousness, her neck stiff from the angle she'd held her head against the couch – at some point during her sleep she must have slid down to rest her head against the armrest. Malfoy jumped awake next to her, but her eyes were fixed on the angry man who was glowering in front of her fireplace.

It was Ron.

* * *

**A/N: **Look for the next chapter in the near future! I've been waiting to write the next 'scene' for ages.


	10. I Swear It, Draco

**A/N: **Told you the next chapter would be up quickly. It was both easy and hard to write, but I feel very satisfied with it and I hope you all do too.

**Disclaimer: **As always, if you recognize it, it's not mine. The only thing that's mine is the plot.

* * *

Ron stood fuming in front of the fireplace, a look of utter horror and disbelief on his face.

Before Hermione could open her mouth and attempt an explanation, Ron had drawn his wand and pointed it Malfoy. Quicker than Hermione had ever seen him move, Malfoy snatched her wand – which had been sitting between them on the couch – and leapt to his feet, pointing her wand at Ron.

"Stop!" Hermione shrieked, leaping to her feet. She'd been dreading this situation since George's birthday when Ron had threatened bodily harm if he ever came across Malfoy. She'd hoped it wouldn't happen for a while, and she'd also hoped Ron had just been saying that as way to get the last word in after caving to her argument. But judging by his body language and seething expression, Hermione's hope wasn't going to manifest. "Both of you, stop!"

"Hermione, _what the hell is he doing here?_" Ron demanded.

"Same reason I'm here every day," Malfoy sneered before Hermione could answer. "I have an open invitation."

"_You_-"

"Ron, stop!" Hermione cut him off, stepping in front of Malfoy. "It's not a big deal, honestly."

"Not a big deal?" Ron echoed, glaring at Malfoy.

"Ron, you _knew _about the situation! You said you were okay with it, that you trusted me, remember?"

"I knew you'd been spending time with him, but I didn't realize 'spending time' was another way of saying 'sleeping with,'" Ron growled, ignoring the rest of her statement and glaring around her at Malfoy.

Hermione felt the blood rush to her face. "That's not what's happening and you know it! You're making something out of nothing!"

"It didn't look like nothing!" Ron raged, his ears red.

"Ron, calm down! You're completely overreacting," Hermione said with an attempt at patience. "Merlin, we just fell asleep watching television!"

"Yeah, we were pretty worn out from our long day together," Malfoy said smugly.

Hermione glared at him over her shoulder. "Don't," she hissed, but he gave no indication that he heard her.

"Spent the whole day about the city - got a meal together and everything," Malfoy continued. "We even started purchasing new things for the apartment took a lot out of us."

Ron blanched, though his ears remained red.

Hermione briefly turned around to glare at Malfoy. "Don't provoke him!"

"He started it," Malfoy seethed, not looking at her.

"What are you two, twelve?" Hermione demanded, glaring at each of them in turn. "You could at least try and act like mature adults about this!

Ron glared back at her. "Well what did you expect, Hermione? I come here to find you two taking a cozy nap on the couch together-"

"Ron," Hermione pleaded. "Honestly, we just fell asleep because we were watching an incredibly boring program. It was a one time thing."

"Well that's not _strictly_ true, is it?" Malfoy cut in. "There was that other time I slept over."

Ron's wand arm twitched. "Is that true?"

"Yes, but there were circumstances involved!" Hermione said desperately, wanting to punch Malfoy even as she defended him. "He couldn't stay at his place, he needed somewhere to stay!"

"What, no friends to stay with?" Ron snarled. "Not surprising, really."

Hermione heard Malfoy snarl behind her. "Ron, you said you were okay with this," she said as patiently as she could.

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind," Ron fumed. "I'm not okay with it."

Hermione's heart sank. "_Why_?"

"Come on, Hermione! He obviously hasn't changed one bit!" he shouted at her, gesturing towards Malfoy. "What in the world would make you think he'd actually changed?"

"Ron, you said you trusted me!"

"Maybe my trust was misplaced," Ron replied darkly.

Hermione felt as if he'd slapped her. Ron wasn't even looking at her – he was still glaring at Malfoy, hatred etched in his face along with a sort of territorial jealousy. Hermione felt the anger welling up at the sight of his hostile expression – anger at Ron for overreacting, anger that Malfoy had egged him on, anger that she was having yet another argument with one of her oldest friends But mostly she was angry that Ron had said he didn't trust her – after everything they'd been through, he didn't trust her.

"Don't act like you know me, Weasley," Malfoy snapped angrily.

"It's a pity Hermione was too nice to turn you away," Ron continued. "I always thought she was too nice for her own good sometimes."

"I could have said the same thing, seeing as she still puts up with you," Malfoy said through gritted teeth.

Hermione instinctively turned around and stepped in front Malfoy, sensing from the tone of his voice that his frustration was about to boil over into a physical confrontation. She gently put her hand on his outstretched arm, trying to catch his eye. "Malfoy, stop."

"Watch your hand, Hermione, you might catch something," Ron said maliciously.

"Don't," Hermione said quietly as Malfoy flushed with rage, trying to push his arm down while fighting her own urge to grab her wand and cast a silencing charm on Ron. Malfoy looked down at her at the pressure, giving her a look that clearly said _Please, let me hex him. _Hermione shook her head just barely, and much to her relief he finally lowered his arm with a frustrated sigh of resignation.

"Is 'heartless murderer' contagious? I can't remember," Ron sneered, and Hermione's hope that he would take Malfoy's backing off as cue for him to calm down vanished.

The color drained out of Malfoy's face, and he looked over her shoulder at Ron with so much hate in his expression that the hair on her the back of her neck stood up.

"It's probably a chronic illness as well – once a killer always a killer. Hermione thinks that as well, I'm sure of it."

"Malfoy," she whispered, putting a hand up to his chest as he took a step forward with a hurt in his eyes that she hadn't seen in weeks. Hermione almost felt like a fraud for restraining him when at this point such an incredible fury at Ron and his behaviour had risen up inside her that she wanted to hit him herself.

"Let go of me, Granger," Malfoy growled, trying to push her to the side as Ron snickered nastily from behind her.

"No!" she cried, keeping a firm hold on him. "Draco, please," she pleaded in a whisper.

It was as if hearing her call him by his first name was so weird that it diverted his attention, and he looked down into her imploring eyes with an indiscernible look on his face; Hermione couldn't tell if it was respect or annoyance at her interference. After staring at her for another moment, his eyes moved back up to look over her shoulder.

"Get out," Malfoy snapped.

"Last time I checked, Malfoy, this was Hermione's place and not yours-"

"Get out," Hermione said, just loud enough for Ron to hear her. She hadn't turned around to say it – she was still staring up at Malfoy, whose face was set in a fragile façade of self-control.

"_What?_" Ron replied, and Hermione could hear the mixture of shock and betrayal in his voice. "Hermione-"

"You heard me," she said softly yet firmly, still not turning around. "Get out, Ron."

"Hermione, what are you doing?" he asked incredulously.

She finally turned around to face him. "I'm sorry, Ron, but you need to leave. You told me you trusted me before, but you've admitted that you don't. And if you can't trust me then you need to go, now."

He stared at her with the same incredulous expression for another moment before it turned stony. "Fine. I get it," he snapped, stepping back towards the fireplace. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but he snapped it shut without saying a word before stepping into the grate and disappearing.

Hermione stared at the fireplace, still shocked at Ron's behavior. She was also spitting mad about it, furious that the mere sight of Malfoy on her couch had apparently disintegrated the rational part of Ron's brain.

She slowly turned back around to Malfoy, who looked as if he were barely holding it together. His hands were shaking at his side and he was clearly trying to keep face expressionless. He wasn't doing a very good job of it though – his eyes were wet and his face was twitching with anger.

Hermione took a step toward him, unsure of what to say.

Malfoy took a step back, his gaze moving from the fireplace to her.

"That's not what you think of me, is it?" he asked shakily, his eyes boring into hers.

"What?"

"'Once a killer always a killer?' Is that what you think of me?"

"No – of course not!" Hermione exclaimed, taking another step towards him. "Why would you think that?"

"Weasley said you-"

"Ron was wrong," Hermione said firmly, stepping up to him and holding his gaze. "I've never thought that about you."

He didn't reply, just stared at her with a kind of desperate hope in his eyes.

"I know that isn't you and I've never even considered it. Ron only said those things to try and get reaction and I doubt he even believed most of what he said himself. But what he said about me thinking that about you – it was a complete lie. I've never thought that since I've known you, even when you were horrible to me at school. I thought you were incredibly mean and misguided, but I never thought you were a merciless killer. When you showed up at my bookstore a complete wreck I didn't think it. I've spent the past two months with you, and I know without a doubt that I was right to never think that, because I know you now, and I know you're the exact opposite of a hopeless murderer – you're a good man, and that's something I think with all my heart," she continued, meeting his eyes with what she hoped was assurance. "I swear it, Draco."

He looked down at her for another moment, and Hermione was on the brink of turning away when he suddenly closed the small distance between them and engulfed her in a hug so desperate it was almost painful. He didn't say anything, just buried his face in her hair, his breathing somewhat ragged as if he was trying not to cry.

Hermione stood rigidly at first, in too much shock to do anything other than stand as still as board, her eyes wide and unbelieving. After a few moments of processing the situation, Hermione slowly wrapped her arms around him, unsurprised that the action only caused him to hold her tighter.

In the last month, Hermione had gotten used to a stable Malfoy, one who only had the rare mood swing and had seemed generally…not necessarily cheerful, but something close to it. He had been more himself recently, though without the nastiness of his old self. Now it seemed as if Ron's words had nearly torn apart all the progress he'd made, and the thought brought tears to Hermione's eyes.

Hermione had meant every word that she'd said to Malfoy, too. She'd spent enough time with him over the past couple of months to be sure of everything she'd said, but for a split second she had thought Malfoy might not believe her, that he'd call her a liar and storm out of her flat in a rage. The Malfoy who had first come to her that fateful day in her bookstore would have done, and Hermione considered the fact that he hadn't a confirmation of everything she'd just told him.

She could feel hot tears against her neck, and she'd realized Malfoy had lost his fight against tears. Hermione clung to him, unable to keep the emotions she'd been holding in throughout the argument in any longer, letting her own tears now spill over as she buried her face in Malfoy's neck.

* * *

**A/N: **Phew! This chapter is, as they say, the 'turning point' of this particular fic. It was just thismuch shorter than the consistent length, but I wanted to keep it all one scene and I didn't want to add in anything unnecessary for the sake of chapter length.

And before anyone asks, no, I don't hate Ron. But we all know he's got a hot temper...just as we know he tends to stick his foot in his mouth. This is not a Ron-bashing fic, I promise. I swear it, guys, I swear it!


	11. In Your Dreams, Granger

**A/N: **Yeah, I know, it's been a long time. I had finals and then I was sick virtually my entire winter break and, most importantly, my muses were decidedly uninspired until I was on my way to work today. I'm still sick, but I figured it had been way too long for me to just ignore my muses.

**Disclaimer: **You know this by now. If you recognize it, it isn't mine. Plot only!

* * *

"I thought you were done with this whole 'going in to work' business."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Malfoy, who had been waiting outside her door. "I can't just stop going in altogether. I actually like it there. How long have been standing here?"

"A good twenty minutes. Very uncomfortable."

"Put that out," Hermione motioned towards his cigarette. "I don't want you smoking those in my flat anymore."

"Just let me finish this one and I'll stop," he muttered irritably.

"Bad day?" Hermione asked as she unlocked her door.

"You could say that," he sighed, following her in. "My mother sent me an owl. She wants me to go visit my father with her this weekend."

"I take it you don't want to go?"

"Not particularly," Malfoy replied, leaning back against the door. "Apparently he's ill."

"Don't you think you should go then?"

Malfoy snorted. "I'm sure my father can manage a cold without the help of his son."

"But-"

"Drop it," Malfoy said airily. "Don't get that bushy head of yours in a twist about my father's dire case of the sniffles."

Hermione rolled her eyes, self-consciously patting her hair. It wasn't _that_ bushy anymore. "Whatever. Don't get too comfortable, I'm leaving again shortly."

"Where to?"

"Hogsmeade. Routine check on my store there, that sort of thing."

Malfoy scowled around his cigarette.

"You could come-"

"No."

"You have to go back sometime."

"I know, but it's just…" he trailed off, leaning his head against the door.

"The excuses run out eventually, Draco," she said gently.

"I don't know if I'm ready," he replied softly. "Everyone from that world – _our_ world…they all despise me now. They look at me and all they see is a Death Eater who's no different than his father."

"Well, then you'll just have to prove them all wrong, won't you?"

"You're sickeningly optimistic," he sighed.

"I just believe in you, that's all," she said, stepping up to him.

Malfoy blinked down at her. "That's even more sickeningly optimistic."

"Come on," she said, holding out her hand.

He eyed her hand cautiously. "It won't be long?"

"Not very long, no."

"You sure?"

"Just trust me, okay?" Hermione flashed back the fight with Ron, which had happened over a week ago.

With a deep, bracing sigh, Malfoy took her hand in his. "Alright, hurry up before I change my mind."

Hermione gave him a brief smile before briskly turning on the spot, throwing them both into the unpleasantness that was Apparition.

After a few moments, they found themselves standing just outside the Hogsmeade train station. Hermione took a deep breath, admiring the scene around her. She never tired of the village. With the backdrop of mountains and, most importantly, Hogwarts, the village had always seemed like a dream escape to her.

"Charming," Malfoy said sarcastically, dropping Hermione's hand. "It's as if she's never seen the place before – oh wait, she has."

Hermione glared at him.

"You said this would be quick," he snapped.

"Are you going to be foul the entire time we're here?"

"Yes," he said blankly. "And you're stupid if you expected anything else."

"Look, I don't have the patience for this today, so unless you have something nice to say then just shut up until we leave, okay?" Hermione snapped at him, brandishing her wand threateningly.

Malfoy glared right back at her, and Hermione could tell from his expression that he was restraining from throwing a few choice obscenities at her. "Fine," he ground out evententually.

Hermione tucked her wand back into it's pocket and marched off towards her store without another word. She didn't check to make sure he was following her – he wouldn't get anywhere without a wand, so he either had to follow her or sit petulantly outside the train station to wait for her.

As she made her way into the heart of the village, Hermione felt her anger start to ebb away. It was hard for her to be in a bad mood here – there were too many pleasant memories she had of the place, and it was such a cheerful environment that she often came to Hogsmeade whenever she needed a good cheering up. It was also quite a pleasant day, warm but not quite warm enough to make you break out in a sweat. Perfect weather to get a Butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks and find a nice place outside to enjoy it – unless, of course, you had a sulky Malfoy to pacify.

Hermione started to look over her shoulder to check for said sulky Malfoy, and gave a little jump when she saw that he had been walking right next to her.

Her scare seemed to cheer him up a little. "Thought I'd be sitting it out at the station, huh?" he asked with a slight smirk.

"Maybe," she hedged.

"You did," he said with a sort of self-satisfied certainty.

"Okay, yeah, I did," Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Can you blame me?"

"Considering all your mushy talk about 'believing in me' and all that shit, I find myself insulted," he said gravely. Hermione glanced back over at him to glare, only to have him laugh at her. "You take things way too seriously sometimes, Granger."

"Whatever, we're here," Hermione sighed, stopping to gesture to her store.

"What, this place?" He eyed the storefront. It was much larger than her store in muggle London, though it wasn't showy or loud like some of the other large stores in Hogsmeade.

Without replying, Hermione pushed the door open and felt an overwhelming sense of contentment as soon as she entered. The store was large, usually manned by 20 or so workers at time. Every section had it's own employee to oversee, ensuring there was always help available to customers throughout the store. The bookshelves were high and wide, with sliding ladders that were primarily used by children to reach the upper shelves – most adult wizards simply summoned any high books with a spell, but as kids weren't allowed to use magic (and because Hermione had really, _really _wanted sliding ladders to fulfill her own childhood fantasies), they gladly made use of them, even if they didn't really need a book and just wanted to play. There were plenty of armchairs scattered about, and Hermione even had a small, self-serve stand where customers could purchase tea or coffee (something Harry had deemed "overkill").

"Damn," Malfoy let out a low whistle. "It's like a Granger wet-dream."

Hermione was about to pull out her wand and put a Silencing Spell on him when the Head Manager distracted her.

"Hermione, how are you?" It was Anya, a confident muggle-born witch a few years older than Hermione who had studied business and finance at a muggle university at the urging of her parents. Hiring her to run the main branch of her chain, a job which also entailed supervising the managers at the others stores, had been a no-brainer.

"Great! How's everything here?"

Hermione dutifully listened as Anya gave her a run-down on how everything was running perfectly, but her attention started to drift when she noticed Malfoy had wandered over the Potions section. He studied the books on one of the shelves for a minute or two before grabbing a heavy volume and sinking into an armchair to look through it.

Hermione thought back to Hogwarts – Malfoy had been in most of her Potions classes, and he had been pretty good at the subject. She hadn't paid enough attention to him to know if he was as good as her – he was better than Harry and Ron, and he had gotten into N.E.W.T. level Potions, even if he stopped paying much attention that year. Sitting the armchair and pouring through that book, Hermione had to wonder if he perhaps regretted slacking off in all those classes that year.

"Those books on the Salem trials have been flying off the shelves so we'll probably need to restock – Hermione, are you listening?"

"What? Yeah! I mean, what were you saying?" Hermione flushed with embarrassment.

Anya glanced over to where Hermione had been staying. "Who is that?"

"Oh, just a friend," Hermione stammered, shuffling her feet.

"Just a friend?" Anya replied with raised eyebrows. "He's quite an attractive friend."

"Let's go over those inventory papers," Hermione said quickly, pretending to adjust her watch to hide her continued embarrassment. After one more glance over at Malfoy, Hermione hurried after Anya.

* * *

Hermione cleared her throat, causing Malfoy to start a little.

"About time," he grumbled, quickly recovering.

"It was less than half an hour," Hermione replied haughtily, adjusting her stack of papers. "And you seemed occupied enough."

Malfoy looked down at the book he'd been immersed in. "Yeah, well, I needed something to do."

"Do you want that?" Hermione asked, gesturing at the book.

Malfoy stared at the book for a moment. "This ruddy book? I don't think so," he scoffed, slamming the book shut. "It was nice to make fun of for a bit."

Hermione eyed him as he stood up, not buying his insolence. "Ready to go then?"

With a nod, Malfoy brushed past her to put the book on the shelf, hesitating a bit before sliding it back into place and staring at it for a few moments.

Hermione didn't miss the slightly strained expression on Malfoy's face as he turned back to her. "Oh, for Merlin's sake," Hermione snapped, marching up to the shelf and tearing the book back off the shelf. "You're the biggest prat on the earth, I swear!"

Malfoy didn't reply, but he couldn't hide his satisfaction.

"Anya, I'm taking this copy of _Potions for the Inquisitive and Easily Amused Wizard_!" Hermione shouted as she stomped past the front counter, Malfoy at her heels.

"You!" Hermione whirled on Malfoy as soon as they were out the door. "Why do you have to be so difficult about everything?"

"You make it so much fun that I can't resist myself," he replied smoothly.

Hermione ignored him. "Come on, let's go back to the station."

"Why can't we just leave from here?"

"Because," Hermione said, adjusting the book and papers in her arms, struggling slightly to keep it all from falling. "I like to get a last look at Hogwarts before I leave."

Malfoy plucked the book out of her arms before replying. "So sentimental. Alright, if you insist."

Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit pleased as they walked back towards the train station. There hadn't been any meltdowns and Malfoy had only had a quick bout of temper at the beginning. Malfoy expressing interest in Potions had been a nice surprise as well. Hermione decided that she could officially mark the day a success.

"Hasn't changed much, has it?" Malfoy remarked as Hogwarts came into view. "The rebuilding went quite swimmingly, I heard."

"Yes, the repairs put everything back nearly exactly the same," Hermione answered, referring the post-battle reconstruction that she had helped with. "It was quite fun, really."

"You miss it?"

"All the time," Hermione sighed wistfully. "There were definitely some rough patches, but some of the best times of my life were at Hogwarts." With a pang Hermione thought of nights around the common room fire with Harry and Ron; though her life had been considerably more challenging while at Hogwarts, the memories of their friendship outweighed it all. That hadn't always been smooth sailing either, but they always came back together.

With another pang at the thought of the recent confrontation with Ron, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if the days of unbreakable friendship were over.

Hermione sighed again before turning to Malfoy, who she realized had been watching her, and inexplicably sad expression covering his face.

"What?

"Nothing," he blinked, looking away from her. "You didn't have to get this book for me, you know."

"I figured it might help you do something other than sit around on my couch and play those blasted video games that you're so terrible at," Hermione said. After he had successfully hooked up the stupid console (aka, had Hermione use her wand to put it together), Malfoy had proceeded to be awful at every game he had purchased. Hermione, being familiar with muggle technology, had initially been amused by this, especially since Malfoy thought he was quite good at the games. Eventually, though, her amusement at his expense at turned to annoyed boredom.

"I'm not making any potions, Granger," Malfoy said seriously.

"Why not?"

Malfoy looked down at his feet, but he didn't reply.

"You think you won't be good at it or you still don't want to get back into magic?"

"A little of both, I guess," he answered, still looking at the ground.

"Well, you were afraid to come here and you did that," Hermione said gently. "Was it as bad as you thought it would be?"

Malfoy sighed, picking his head up to look at the castle behind her. "No, it wasn't," he said reluctantly. "Not that I'm not still mad at you for making me come," he added.

"You could have said no."

He didn't respond.

"Come on, it wasn't bad. And you don't really need magic to make potions anyway," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, maybe..."

"I'll do them with you, even. It'll be fun," Hermione said. "Unless, that is, you're afraid I'll be better at it than you?"

Malfoy actually smiled at her. "In your dreams, Granger."

* * *

**A/N: **So it was a borderline filler chapter, but it had to be there because I have a rule of not putting EVENT chapters two in a row. Unless it's the climax of the story, which this is not. But alas! That means the next chapter is an EVENT chapter! And, best of all, it's largely already written. In fact, I wrote the next chapter MONTHS ago, before I even started this chapter. So yeah, that means a quick update is in store. Bonus points go to whoever realized the manager Anya was named after the one and only Anya Jenkins of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (when in doubt of what to name people, I tend to resort to Buffyverse character names).

As always, reviews are mightily appreciated, even when used to simply express dissatisfaction with the pacing of updates.


	12. I'm Proud Of You

__**A/N: **Eh? Nice and fast this time to make up for the lengthy wait. Also longer, so yay! Quick note: the italicized portions between the breaks are recent flashbacks. It was quite enjoyable to write them, really.

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it's not mine. The only thing that's mine is the plot.

* * *

_Two weeks later_

Hermione lifted her hand and rang the doorbell.

Addison opened the door a few moments later. "Hey, Hermione. He'll be down in a sec."

"Thanks," she replied, trying to smile.

"I think he thought you wouldn't show up."

Hermione didn't respond, just looked down at her feet.

"I'm glad you did though," Addison continued. "He needs a friend right now, a real one."

* * *

"_He'll come around, you know he will," Harry said. "Ron's got a temper, but you know that. He just needs time to cool down."_

"_How long?" Hermione asked, staring into her fireplace mournfully as if it were the source of her anger. "It's been three weeks!"_

"_Well, I hate to say it, but this time it might be a while. I mean, it's not like he thought something was going on with you and some random bloke – he thought something was going on with you and Malfoy. He probably still does, which is why he hasn't apologized yet."_

_Hermione ground her teeth together, still glaring into the fireplace. _

"_You know how he is about you sometimes, with your history-"_

"_I don't care about our history right now, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, looking over at him. "I just care about our friendship!"_

"_So does he, and that's how I know he'll come around. Stuff like this doesn't just ruin a friendship permanently, not a real friendship."_

* * *

"You didn't have to come," Malfoy said, appearing in the doorway next to Addison.

"Yeah, I did," Hermione replied, her eyes raking over Malfoy's somber black suit.

"See you," Addison said, disappearing into the house.

"Is there a place…?" she asked.

"Yeah," he responded shortly, shutting the door behind him. "There's an alley right over, it'll work."

Malfoy started off down the sidewalk, Hermione trailing a bit to make sure there weren't any muggles in view of the alley.

She followed him a few doors down until they'd reached a narrow alley, and with one last look around she followed him into it about ten yards.

"You have your wand?" he asked lowly.

"Of course." She reached into her jacket pocket and puller her wand, stretching her other hand towards him. "Ready?"

"No, but it doesn't really matter, does it?" He grabbed her hand.

"You'll do fine," Hermione said as encouragingly as possible.

"Now isn't the time for optimism, Granger. I haven't been around any of those people since...you know," he muttered.

"This isn't about them, alright?" Hermione said. "Besides, you've come along way. I'm proud of you, Draco."

* * *

"_I'm proud of you," Hermione declared, grinning at him over his potion._

"_What for? It's about six shades too dark," Malfoy said, throwing an annoyed look at her own, perfectly sky-blue Carbonation Potion._

"_A technicality," Hermione waved a dismissive hand. "It's fine."_

"_Yeah, fine if you want to feel your nose tingle, but worthless if you want to feel carbonated."_

"_But it's miles better than when you tried the Hiccuping Potion the other day," Hermione pointed out. "So you're definitely improving."_

"_Yeah, I suppose. You know what, I want to try this." Malfoy went over to Hermione's potion and promptly drank a vial of her potion before she could protest._

"_Well?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. _

"_Hmmm..." Malfoy contemplated, waiting for the effects to start. Suddenly, he looked rather agitated right before starting to fidget like mad. "No! I don't think I like this one!"_

_Hermione laughed, wondering what it must be like to feel like a carbonated drink._

"_Don't laugh – ah, it's so tingly-"_

_Hermione laughed even harder._

"_Don't laugh at me Granger, make it go away!"_

_Hermione consulted the potion book, trying to contain her laughter as Malfoy started jumping around her room. "It says it will wear off after about fifteen minutes. Not long, then!"_

"_FIFTEEN MINUTES?" Malfoy yelled. "I can't do it, it's too weird!"_

"_Stop hopping around, see what it's like when you stand still," Hermione suggested. _

_Malfoy stopped jumping, and the look of utmost annoyance started clearing off his face. "Huh."_

"_What's like now?"_

"_Well, it kind of feels like I'm floating, only I know I'm not, but it feels like all of me is shooting upward." Malfoy contemplated this for a moment. "No, I don't really like this either, it's unsettling."_

"_Here," Hermione walked over and put her hands on his shoulders as if holding him down. "Still feel like you're floating?"_

_Malfoy grinned down at her. "More than ever, but it's not so bad now."_

* * *

"I guess we'll see," he said, grimacing as he looked down at her.

"It'll be fine," Hermione said again, and she tried to smile at him before turning on the spot.

Before she knew it, they were both standing in front of the Malfoy Manor gates, thrown open to accommodate the long line of guests already walking up the way.

Hermione gazed up at the Manor. The place had never really seemed appealing to her due to obvious reasons, but today it looked even less appealing than usual. It didn't help that as soon she'd appeared alongside Draco Malfoy the hushed whispers started almost immediately.

"There's Draco now, poor thing…"

"What on earth is he wearing…?"

"…looks like a blasted Muggle…"

"Who is that he's with?"

"Is that…?"

"…think it's a friend of Harry Potter…"

"Gramnar, I thought it was…"

"…_Hermione Granger_."

Hermione forced herself not to look around, knowing that she was one of the last people any of the guests would expect to see at this particular event.

Honestly, a few months ago she wouldn't have expected to see herself here either.

But, as life is wont to do, unexpected things have a way of forcing themselves on you.

* * *

"_What's the matter? Is he okay?" Hermione demanded as soon as Addison opened the door. _

"_I'm not sure what happened, but he's definitely not okay." He held the door open for her, and she brushed past him almost rudely. "When he got home earlier he was already drunk, and I'm fairly certain he must have broken everything he owns by now."_

"_Oh, no," Hermione moaned. "Is his door locked?"_

"_No idea."_

_She didn't spare him another response before she dashed up the stairs, running the short distance to his door. She pressed her ear against the door first, but she couldn't hear anything. Hermione tried to turn the doorknob, but it was locked. _

_Hermione raised her hand and knocked on the door as she gently as she could. There was no response. She knocked a little louder, but still nothing. Finally, Hermione drew her wand and muttered a low "Alohamora" before letting herself in. _

_The place was worse than the last time she'd seen it torn apart. She doubted there was a single unbroken item in the room beside the bed – even the window was cracked. Malfoy was sitting on his bed with his back against the wall, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He was awake, but he hadn't so much as glanced her way when she walked in. His eyes were glassy and staring across the room at the wall, wide but not seeing. _

"_What happened?" she asked immediately, walking up to his bed and sitting on the edge. _

_He didn't respond, just took another swig of the whiskey. Hermione gently reached across and pried it from his hand to put on the floor, relieved that he didn't resist. _

"_Draco, what's wrong?"_

* * *

"How are you holding up, Draco?" An elderly woman in a very expensive looking set of black robes asked, ignoring Hermione's presence despite the fact that her hand was still clasped with Malfoy's.

"Fine, Aunt Clarissa." Malfoy accepted her sympathetic pat on the shoulder without expression.

Malfoy's Aunt Clarissa, seeming to sense that he wasn't in a chatty mood, reluctantly turned toward Hermione.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I know you. Are you a friend of Draco's?" she asked with a pretense of innocence.

"Yes. It's Hermione," she replied, playing along as if she wasn't fully aware that the woman knew exactly who she was and was pretending she didn't because she was a prejudiced old cat. "Hermione Granger."

"Oh, my dear, I should have recognized you! You know how the mind gets with age," the woman said, not without a good deal of sarcasm. "If you'll excuse me," she said imperiously, smiling at Malfoy but not sparing Hermione another glance.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Hermione muttered, glancing nervously around; there were a number of guests who were openly giving her nasty looks. Aunt Clarissa, apparently, was one of the more polite guests.

"Don't go," Malfoy said, squeezing her hand.

Hermione stopped her nervous glancing to look up at him. His eyes clearly said what he hadn't voiced: _Please, I need you here. _

With a sigh, Hermione nodded her consent. "Don't worry, I won't."

* * *

_Hermione let him hold onto her, her own arms wrapped around him as he muttered against her neck, saying the same thing over and over again. _

"_Please don't go, please don't go…"_

"_I won't," she reassured him. "I won't."_

* * *

They walked up the way, an occasional guest barring their progress to console Malfoy while studiously ignoring Hermione. Most of them, thankfully, merely stared in wonderment and mild disgust of the two of them walking hand-in-hand up to the Manor.

Narcissa Malfoy was just inside the entrance, the shadows under her eyes nearly as dark as her regal black robes.

Malfoy released Hermione's hand, immediately darting up to his mother and accepting her embrace.

"Miss Granger, how kind of you for coming," Narcissa said after she'd released her son.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Hermione offered.

Narcissa gave her a shaky smile before holding her hand out to her son. "Come, the ceremony's about to start. It'll be out back past the gardens."

Hermione followed the two Malfoys through the front hall of the manor towards the back door, keeping a bit of a distance. Glares and angry muttering came from just about every guest she walked past, but she willed herself to keep moving forward. No one would dare disturb the only guest brought by the deceased's only son, after all.

There was already a small gathering of guests milling about what Hermione presumed to be the gravesite, a spacious square between two rows of rose bushes. Hermione hurried a bit closer to Draco and Narcissa when she spotted Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott, hoping to not be spotted right away. She didn't much feel like dealing with that inevitable meeting before the ceremony.

Hermione chanced a peek around Draco. Pansy, already in tears, was clutching Nott's hand and gazing morosely at the empty grave. As Hermione and the two Malfoys approached, she looked up and stopped crying immediately at the sight of Draco. She didn't greet him or even offer a smile, only nodded in recognition and moving even closer to Nott.

Draco seemed unsurprised to see either of them, though he made no sign that he had seen them.

Once they reached the grave, Draco and Naricissa stopped to stand at the head of the grave, and Hermione repositioned herself behind Narcissa so as to be out of site of Pansy. The cover was short lived; Hermione panicked a little when Narcissa broke away from Draco to speak with a wizard in very formal robes, as this caused Draco to turn around to find Hermione's hand again. Though she obliged, Hermione felt a sick sensation in her stomach as she heard Pansy's horrified gasp from a few feet away.

Hermione felt a bit selfish for being so worried about her own comfort, but she couldn't help it if having people throw murderous glares her way unsettled her. Hermione could hear more guests approached behind her (and the muttered insults with them), but she focused her sight on a patch of grass next to the grave.

_This isn't about me, this isn't about me, _Hermione repeated to herself.

Fortunately, the wizard in the formal robes had started speaking to the crowd, now fully assembled around the grave. Hermione tried to listen to what he was saying to distract herself from her own discomfort, which was almost worse, at it made her think about Draco's discomfort.

He hadn't wanted to come to the ceremony, hadn't wanted to be around a group of people he no longer wanted anything to do with.

* * *

"_They hate me now," he moaned against her neck. _

"_I'm sure they don't," Hermione reasoned, though she knew it was next to useless with him in such a stupor. _

"_I hate them," he said darkly. "And I hate him, too."_

"_No you don't, not really." Hermione hadn't been fond of Lucius Malfoy in any way, but she still felt a pang at hearing someone throw the word 'hate' at their father. _

"_Don't tell me how I feel!" Draco screamed, tearing himself away from her and glaring at her with such hostility that Hermione felt genuinely frightened. "You don't know anything about it," he continued, standing up and grabbing the bottle of whiskey off the floor before taking an enormous swig from it. "I don't care about him, and I don't care that he died," he declared nastily._

_Hermione stood up to face him. "You're not in a fit state," she said shakily, meeting his angry gaze. _

"_I'm not going!" he yelled at her, causing Hermione to take a step back. _

"_It would mean a lot to your mother," she tried. "She wants you to be there – how do you think she'd feel if her only son didn't show up to her husband's funeral?"_

_Draco answered by taking another generous dose of whiskey. _

"_She could use the support, you know," Hermione continued, stepping forward again. "I – I could go with you, if you want."_

_He stared at her, swaying a bit on his feet. "Why would you do that?"_

"_Everyone would be too busy being angry about me to care much about you," she offered, guiding him back to his bed._

* * *

Hermione could sense that the guests were finally diverting their attention away from her and onto the wizard, but she still couldn't relax. Eventually, Narcissa took over from the wizard to give a tear-filled eulogy, and every once in a while Hermione could feel the muscles in Draco's hand contracting, as if he were physically straining to hold himself together.

The casket was, as Hermione expected it to be, grandiose in it's construction. She watched impassively as it was lowered into the grave, feeling neither joy nor grief that its inhabitant was dead. Though Hermione felt sympathy for the two remaining members of the family, she felt no such emotion for Lucius Malfoy. Especially considering the man would probably roll in casket if he could see his son standing hand-in-hand with Harry Potter's muggle-born friend at his funeral.

The rest of the ceremony was mercifully short, though Hermione soon found herself wishing it had lasted longer as guests converged on Draco to offer their sympathies. Hermione made to break away from Draco, but he clutched her hand tighter to keep her by his side.

Most of the guests continued to ignore her presence, though a couple followed Aunt Clarissa's suit and introduced themselves on the pretense of not knowing who she was. Hermione was starting to feel grateful for this practice until Pansy approached with Nott, an engagement ring gleaming on her left hand.

"Draco, it's been so long," she said warmly, not looking at Hermione.

"Yeah," Draco said stiffly.

"I'm so sorry-"

"What are you doing here?"

Hermione started a little at the question as she met Theodore Nott's inquisitive gaze. She had expected the question to eventually come from Pansy, not the boy with whom she had exchanged maybe three words with in all her time at Hogwarts.

"Um," she stammered, absolutely clueless as to what an appropriate reply would be.

"She came with me," Draco answered. "My mother requested that I bring her."

Hermione looked up at Draco questioningly, not sure whether this was true or if he had made it up on the spot.

"I wasn't aware your mother – I mean, I didn't think they really knew each other," Pansy said in a surprised tone, though she at least didn't seem quite as hostile as Nott.

"They do," was all Draco said in reply. "See you," he said before either of them could ask another question, and he promptly began leading Hermione away in the direction of his mother.

"Um," Hermione began, stumbling a little to keep up with his sudden departure from the couple.

"We're leaving," he said lowly. Hermione resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder, feeling massively relieved that they were leaving.

"You're staying for the wake, right Draco?" Narcissa asked as they reached her.

"No," Draco answered. "Sorry," he tacked on, though he didn't look sorry at all.

"Not even for a little bit?" Narcissa pleaded. Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for her – but not sorry enough to want to stay.

"I'm sorry, mother, I just can't," Draco replied, an unmistakable hint of desperation in his voice.

Narcissa sighed. "Fine, I understand." But Hermione thought she sounded bitter.

Without a further farewell, Draco immediately set off for the house, leaving Hermione once again stumbling after him and muttering a strangled "goodbye" to his mother.

The guests, it seemed, no longer cared about being discreet with their hostility towards her presence, and Hermione was glad that Draco was nearly jogging as countless guests openly glared disgustedly at her.

By the time they reached the front gates, Hermione was panting slightly and her feet were throbbing painfully in her heels.

"Okay," Draco said, a little breathless himself. "Alright, Granger, get us the hell out of here."

* * *

**A/N: **I can't promise another update as quickly as this one, but it shouldn't be too long. This is my last semester as an undergrad (huzzah!) and I'm only taking four classes two days a week, so I'll have plenty of time to write whenever I feel the urge to fic.

As always, reviews are much appreciated.


	13. I'm Proud Of You Pt 2

**A/N: **Would you look at that? Another update! Has anyone else noticed a pattern - months between an update, a cluster of updates within a short period of time, months between update? I'm trying to curb it - I think my record is still 7 months on ISHBM, and I haven't come near that since then. Anyway, this update had to be fast, as this chapter is basically the follow-up/continuation of the last chapter, so I couldn't wait too long.

**Disclaimer: **You know the drill. If you recognize it, it's not mine. I got the plot, though.

* * *

"It wasn't so bad," Hermione finally said.

Malfoy snorted. "No need for sugarcoating. It was awful." His voice came out heavily muffled; as soon as they had returned to Hermione's flat, he had banged into her room and thrown himself face-down on the bed. Without asking, of course. Hermione had gingerly sat next to him, not sure of what to say, and had probably waited a good twenty minutes before attempting conversation.

"But it could have been worse," Hermione countered.

"Not for you," he sighed, rolling onto his back. "Your presence didn't seem to go over very well."

Hermione recalled the hostile glares that she had received nonstop throughout the whole ordeal. "Noticed that?"

"It wasn't exactly subtle," he pointed out, sitting up. "I feel like I should thank you for putting up with that."

"Don't bother. Today wasn't about me, anyway." Hermione paused, hesitating a little before asking, "Did your mother really ask you to bring me, or did you make that up?"

"She suggested it. I guess she figured I would 'cope better,'" he said sarcastically. "Well, joke's on her, because I would have coped the best if I hadn't even gone."

"Don't-"

"I knew he was dying, you know," Malfoy said matter-of-factly.

"You – you did?"

"Yup. And you know what? I was happy to hear it," he said, an odd tone to his voice. "I was glad," he continued, drawing a flask out from a pocket in his jacket.

"Why?" Hermione asked, attempting to take away his flask.

"Because," he started, batting her hand away and chugging a few mouthfuls of his drink before continuing. "I blamed him for everything that happened to my family during the war." Malfoy laughed humorlessly. "I still do, and I don't think I ever won't. But it was more than that."

"Such as?"

Malfoy took another long drink. "I blamed him for me. You know, how I ended up. I mean, I knew I was a screw-up, but I blamed him anyway," Malfoy said, pausing to take another generous swig. "I thought if I went to see him at Azkaban I'd be tempted to forgive him out of pity, and I refused to allow that to happen."

Hermione sighed, but had no response.

"So I was glad that he was dying and that was no longer a possibility. And since I blamed him for what I brought on myself, I was glad he was dying." Malfoy finished off whatever was in his flask before tossing it to the floor. "Just another thing to put on the list of reasons why I'm worthless. I thought if he died without me forgiving him then I could blame hime forever. Some son, huh?"

Hermione looked down at her hands, still finding herself at a loss for words.

"Well," Malfoy said, his voice slightly slurred by now. "I guess everyone's pretty used to the idea of me sucking at every aspect of life by this point. You saw Pansy's face – I could practically hear her wondering how I could have sunk so low as to be consorting with one of Harry Potter's friends," Malfoy laughed nastily. "Put her on the list who think I can't do anything right. Actually, I reckon my father would probably be proud to know that he bred a wayward son of no value whatsoever who hardly cared about anyone other than himself," he continued bitterly. "Utterly worthless."

Again, Hermione couldn't seem to find the words to form a proper response.

"I'll take your silence as confirmation."

"Don't you dare," Hermione warned. "You are not worthless and don't you _dare _imply that I agree with that!"

"Are you going to give another half-assed speech on how much you believe in me again?" he asked mockingly.

Hermione shook her head in exasperation and started to get off the bed, intending to storm out of the room.

"No! Don't go," Malfoy pleaded, grabbing hold of her wrist and pulling her back towards him. "I'm sorry!"

"Why? So I can listen to you mock me some more?" Hermione demanded, angry tears springing to her eyes. "So you can throw all the support I've given you back in my face?"

"I'm sorry," Malfoy said again, pulling her closer. "I didn't mean it, I just – I don't know..."

"You're drunk," Hermione said disgustedly, turning her head away from him as she caught a whiff of his breath.

"You're mad at me," he slurred sadly.

"Disappointed," Hermione corrected him (though she was undeniably angry as well), reaching for her wand with her free hand.

"I'm sorry," he repeated with a sigh, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. "You forgive me, right?"

Instead of answering, Hermione summoned her small, rarely-used bottle of Anti-Hangover Potion that George had jokingly given her the past Christmas. "Drink this," she instructed, thrusting it in his face.

"I regret it," he said, ignoring her order. "Not going to see my father."

"Hmm." Hermione found this unsurprising. "Here, drink this."

He ignored her again. "I know my mother was ashamed of me, as usual," he mumbled. "But I was convinced I hated him until I got her owl saying he was dead."

Hermione could feel him shaking slightly, and one look at his face confirmed that he was on the brink of tears.

"And he thought I hated him, and he died thinking his only son hated him." He paused, choking up a little. "Because I was too selfish to tell him I didn't."

Hermione agreed with this assessment, but she didn't think it was a great moment to say so.

"What's wrong with me?" he pleaded, turning her face towards him with his hand. "Why can't I ever do anything right?"

The look on his face was one of utter despair; grief mixed with self-loathing. Hermione wanted to look away, but Malfoy's hand prevented her from doing so.

"You're supposed to be fixing me," he accused in a low slur. "Now I'm just a terrible person with no excuses because you took them away."

"You're not a terrible person-"

"You say that," he cut her off. "But you're the only one. One person saying something doesn't make it true."

"But you aren't-"

"Don't-"

"Stop interrupting me!"

"Then stop kidding yourself!" he nearly yelled.

Hermione tried to leave again, only to have him grip her tighter around the waist.

"Finally giving up?" he asked, smiling bitterly at her. "I thought I'd never get through."

"You didn't," Hermione insisted angrily.

"Then why did you try to leave again? You promised you wouldn't."

"I said that this morning," she started. She was about to point that she had meant she wouldn't leave him alone at the funeral, but something about the hopeless look on his face stopped her.

"You promised," he mumbled, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "You promised you'd stay."

"I know," Hermione sighed. "I won't."

Instead of replying, Malfoy suddenly closed the small distance between them and captures her lips with hers.

Hermione was too stunned to react at first._ Draco Malfoy is kissing me, _she thought dazedly as he wound his hand in hair, urging her to kiss him back.

And for one moment – one wild, confused, delirious moment – Hermione was tempted to oblige.

Hermione pulled back, turning her face away. "Malfoy..."

"You smell good," he said, nuzzling her neck.

"You need to drink this," Hermione insisted, still in a daze of confusion. She held the drink up to him again.

"No," he mumbled, tightening his hold on her again.

"For goodness sake, drink the damn potion!" Hermione nearly shouted, blushing deeply.

"What is it?" he asked against her neck. "I don't care, I don't want it."

"If you don't drink it I will force it down your throat," Hermione said with an attempt at harshness, though it came out quite shakily.

With a sigh, Malfoy briefly released his hold on her to grab the bottle and toss it back before tossing it on the floor. "What's it do?" he asked, wrapping his arm back around her and resting his forehead against the side of her head.

Hermione shut her eyes, willing herself to pull it together before he did. "You'll figure it out."

After a few moments, he seemed to physically deflate against her.

"Oh," Malfoy remarked against her hair. "Should've guessed."

"Yeah," Hermione replied distractedly, waiting for him to pull away.

"Sorry," he said heavily. "I'm not good with dealing with stuff."

"I noticed."

His breath tickled her face as he chuckled. "Perceptive as always," he quipped.

"It's not like you made it a point to hide it, you know."

"No, I guess I didn't."

Hermione recalled the kiss, and was glad that he wasn't looking at her face as she blushed again.

"I guess you can go ahead and take back all those 'I'm proud of you's,'" he muttered. "I pretty much blew it."

"You didn't," Hermione insisted, pulling away from him and forcing herself to face him.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. You'll have to do a lot worse than that if you're looking to blow it. And that's not a challenge!" she added quickly.

He grinned, leaning against the headboard and suddenly looking beyond exhausted. "I wasn't planning to make it one."

"Good," Hermione replied firmly. "Because I meant it every time – I'm proud of you, Draco, I really am. And I'd be very put-off if you took it upon yourself to ruin that, you know."

"I'll do my best not to disappoint you again, I guess," he replied.

"Good," Hermione repeated.

"It's weird," he said, shutting his eyes.

"What is?"

"Hermione Granger being proud of Draco Malfoy," he grinned sleepily. "Weird."

Hermione chuckled. "I've thought so many times."

Malfoy sighed, closing his eyes again. "Thanks for coming today."

"You're welcome," Hermione yawned, feeling quite tired herself. "I was afraid you'd be mad at me for pressuring you to go."

"I was. I was really mad at you," he admitted, turning his head towards her. "I thought about slamming the door in your face and locking it when you showed up this morning."

"You did?"

"Yeah. When I heard the doorbell ring I considered knocking Addison out so that he wouldn't let you in."

"But you didn't," Hermione pointed out.

"He was closer to the door than I thought. I didn't have time."

"You're joking, surely?"

"I'm actually not," he said with a laugh. "I was so mad that when I was walking down the stairs I was planning on pushing him out the door and locking _both _of you out."

"But you didn't," Hermione said again. "What changed your mind?"

"Well, I guess it was when I saw you and it hit me that you cared enough to actually show up," he said with a heavy sigh. "I couldn't really send away a girl who was voluntarily going to event where she'd be treated like shit just to support a bloke who'd been inconveniencing her life for the past few months, now could I?"

"How many times do I have to tell you – you're not an inconvenience!" Hermione insisted.

"Who knows?" Malfoy laughed quietly. "Anyway, I would have felt horrible."

"I would have just blown your door off the hinges if you had locked me out, you know," Hermione said.

Malfoy laughed again. "Figures."

"I'm glad you decided not to lock me out," Hermione said.

"Well, I'm glad you showed up," he replied simply.

"Who's the sentimental one now, hmm?" Hermione teased.

"Still you, Granger," he countered.

"Yeah, sure."

"Hmm," he responded. "Do you think my mother was angry that I didn't stay longer?" he asked, serious again.

"I don't think so," Hermione answered, thinking back to Narcissa's bitter reaction to her son's early departure. "Maybe let-down a little, but I don't think she was mad."

"I had planned to stay, but I couldn't do it," Malfoy groaned. "I just – I don't belong with those people anymore. And I know it seemed like they're hostility was focused on you, but I could tell they didn't think I belonged with them either."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Malfoy raked a hand though his hair, looking more tired than ever. "I figured it would be like that, but I also figured it wouldn't bother me."

"Did it?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"A bit, yeah. I mean, my own relatives looked at me like I was some, some..._muggle_. And they're not shy about expressing their feelings on muggles." Malfoy chuckled humorlessly. "Conditional love, I guess would call it."

"You don't need them," Hermione declared. "With where you're at now, you don't need them one bit."

Malfoy sighed. "I suppose. But it still sucks," he said.

"I know."

"Do you?" Malfoy wondered aloud. "All I know is – I'm tired, Granger. I'm tired of everyone thinking of me as nothing, as useless, as everything _other _than anything good."

Hermione didn't think it would be prudent that a few minutes earlier that he had been insisting that he really was a terrible person who didn't deserve anyone's support. "Not everyone thinks that-"

"Yeah, the 'not' being you and my mother," he cut her off. "And she mostly believes in you being around, not me being anything worthwhile."

"Don't say that-"

"And you-"

"No!" Hermione snapped. "I'm not going to let you question me anymore. It's getting old."

"But-"

Hermione cut him off by placing a finger over his mouth. "I said no, Malfoy."

He stared at her with a sort of wild desperation in his eyes, clearly struggling to follow her orders. What was it going to take? He was convinced that she believed in him; why couldn't he find it in himself to believe in _her _for a change? Hermione studied his face, willing him to just accept her word for once. After a few moments, she decided he wasn't going to refute her for once. Suddenly conscious of their proximity and how easily that distance had been closed earlier, Hermione quickly dropped her hand.

"Okay," he sighed.

"Okay," Hermione nodded. "Good."

"And, um," Malfoy cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm, ah, sorry about...earlier."

Hermione looked at her hands so that her hair would cover her face and hide her blushing. "It's okay, you weren't exactly in a right state.."

"I'm still sorry," he repeated with a yawn. "You can hit me if you want."

Hermione grinned behind her curtain of hair. "I'm not going to hit you."

"You don't always have to be so understanding," he said, sounding like he was on the brink of falling asleep.

"Yeah," she said, finally pushing her hair out of her face. Malfoy had his eyes shut, the rhythm of his breathing suggesting he was nearly gone. "I kind of do."

* * *

**A/N: **Things are moving forward, yup yup. About time, dontcha think? Slowly, yeah, but I've always said it'd be a gradual progression. But smoochies are smoochies!

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.


	14. I Hope You're Ready, Granger

**A/N: **Keepin' it rollin' with the quick updates. And yes, this qualifies as a quick updates for me, as anyone who follows my stories knows by now (sorry...).

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it isn't mine. Only the plot is mine.

* * *

"_Where are we?" Hermione looked around, surprised to find that she suddenly found herself standing on a boat. The water around her was crystal clear, and she could just make out a small house on the distant beach. _

"_You don't know?" Malfoy asked. Hermione turned around to see him sitting next to the steering wheel, though the boat wasn't moving aside from the gentle bobbing over the small, calm waves. He didn't look as disheveled as usual; his hair was freshly cut, and his plain black pants and white button-down shirt were devoid of stains or wrinkles. _

"_I can't remember..." _

"_That's ironic," Malfoy said, looking amused. _

_Hermione looked around again, but the scene was unfamiliar to her, and she had no recollection of even getting on the boat. _

"_I can't believe you don't know," Malfoy said with a laugh. "Considering you're the reason we're here."_

"_I am?" Hermione asked, trying to think what she had done to land them in this mystery place. He laughed again at her confusion."Why are you laughing at me?"_

"_I'm just appreciating the fact that you aren't in control for once."_

"_What?" Hermione asked, even more confused._

"_Well," he started, standing up. "You're always the one telling me what to do, what's going on, what you think I should do, and so on and whatever. I'm getting quite sick of it."_

"_What?" Hermione asked in surprise. "I mean, I don't – what do you mean?"_

"_You keep asking me why I can't believe that you think I'm any good and getting upset about it," he pointed out, stepping up to her. "And you expect me to stop doubting you."_

"_I'm just trying to help you-"_

"_But how can I believe it when you always look at me like a helpless charity case?"_

_Hermione was taken aback. "I didn't-"_

"_Every time you tell me you believe in me," he started, sounding frustrated. "It's like you're saying it to a child, and you look at me like you think I am one."_

"_I don't think you're a child!" Hermione insisted patiently. "And I don't mean to look at you like you are one!"_

"_Really? 'Cause you're doing it right now."_

_Hermione tried to work her expression, but it was hard to do when she wasn't even sure what it looked like before. _

"_That hard to not do it?" Malfoy sighed angrily. "Good to know."_

"_Look, I don't think of you as a child!" Hermione said again._

"_Then what do you think of me as?"_

_Hermione studied his face, which was both frustrated and curious. "A friend, I guess."_

"_You guess?" he asked sarcastically. _

"_Well, what do you want me to think of you as?" Hermione asked exasperatedly. _

"_You don't know?" he asked quietly._

"_Clearly, I know very little," Hermione said, gesturing to the scene around her. _

"_I can't believe you don't know," Malfoy said, stepping closer to her. _

"_Yes, I'm stupid, I get it," Hermione said peevishly. "But pointing it out isn't very helpful, you know."_

"_Do you think it's time I enlighten you?" he asked, now only a few inches from her. _

_Before Hermione could respond, he was kissing her, one hand gripping her waist and the other the side of her face. His lips were gently but insistent, and Hermione needed no further persuasion. Without realizing what she was doing, Hermione wound her arms around his neck, falling into the kiss without a thought, kissing him back as insistently as he kissed her. _

_After what felt like much too short a time, Malfoy had pulled back and moved his lips to her ear._

"_I hope you're ready, Granger."_

_Confused and disappointed, Hermione opened her eyes, but Malfoy was gone, and she was suddenly standing on the beach outside of the house she had spotted from the boat. _

Hermione's eyes snapped open. She was breathing so hard she was nearly panting, and she seemed frozen in the fetal position she had curled into sometime during the night.

She stared at her closet door, trying to get her breathing back to normal. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, giving her head a little shake in an attempt to get her dream out of her thoughts. She rolled onto her back, eyes still shut, and stretched her legs out. Almost at once she caught the scent of cigarette smoke.

Hermione opened her eyes again, and sure enough, Malfoy was sitting up next to her on the bed.

"You were twitching," he said around his cigarette. "Bad dream?"

Hermione felt her cheeks immediately start to flame. "Um, maybe...I don't really remember it," she lied, sitting up. "How long have you been up?"

"A bit," he shrugged. He must have discarded his jacket at some point, as he now sat just in his wrinkled Oxford and black slacks.

"Oh," Hermione replied vaguely. She didn't even remember falling asleep, let alone falling asleep conscious of the fact that Malfoy was still in her bed. At the thought, Hermione felt herself blush anew.

"I didn't mean to stay over."

"It's fine," Hermione said a little too quickly. "I mean, I didn't even notice."

"Too busy having twitchy dreams?"

"Um..."

"I'm going to clear out," he stated, mercifully ignoring her awkwardness and sliding off the bed. "Addison might think I've offed myself."

"Yeah." Hermione cleared her throat. "I know he was worried."

"I know, I know," Malfoy waved an annoyed hand as he picked his jacket up off the floor. "Everyone's always worried about me. I'm getting quite sick of it."

Hermione's reply caught in her throat at his last words. "Wh-what did you say?"

"Nothing," he said dismissively, taking a drag as he walked towards her bedroom door.

"Oh," Hermione mumbled, trying to mask the look of shock and confusion on her face as he turned to look at her before he walked out.

"Are you okay?" he asked. She obviously hadn't done a very good job.

Hermione nodded mutely.

Malfoy studied her for a second before continuing. "Well, see you."

"Yeah, see you.

He hesitated at the door for another moment. "And thanks again."

Hermione nodded again awkwardly, and he was gone.

* * *

Hermione didn't see him for the rest of the day. She wasn't entirely surprised when she got home from work and he wasn't waiting at her door; she expected he wanted some time alone. While she hoped he was trying to cope in a healthy manner, she couldn't help but remember but remember how he had tried coping the night before, via hard liquor and drunken kisses.

As she entered her apartment, Hermione felt a little relieved that he was taking time to himself for a bit, as she needed some for herself.

She absentmindedly dropped her things on the counter as she walked to the couch, thankfully throwing herself onto it and sighed heavily.

Quite frankly, she was freaked out.

Dreams, Hermione knew, were often based on reality; she had had countless dreams of the last battle at Hogwarts, along with other memories from the challenging years at Hogwarts. However, dreams were always weird, unrealistic, and senseless. Forgettable, as well; Hermione usually only recalled a few vague elements from her dreams after she awoke, and tended to not think of them past her morning cup of coffee.

Hermione remembered _every_ detail from her dream that night. That never happened, and yet she could vividly recall the clarity of the ocean water, the movement of the boat over the gentle waves, the house on the beach, the feel of being wrapped up in Malfoy, and how completely _real _it all felt. If that weren't enough, it was Malfoy uttering a measly six words had successfully put her on edge all day.

_I'm getting quite sick of it._

Coincidence. That had been Hermione's first, desperate attempt to write it all off. She had dithered about the bookshelves of her store, pretending to check Merlin knows what, trying to convince herself it was a coincidence.

But the contexts had been too similar for Hermione too ignore. Moreover, the bitter tone of Malfoy's voice was identical to his delivery within the dream. Hermione had then decided that it was one of those times where a dream was based in reality – dream Malfoy had said that because real Malfoy felt it. That explained the dream kiss as well; Hermione had been thinking about it before she fell asleep, so the thought had obviously simply carried into her dream. Dreams with a few parallels to life weren't uncommon, Hermione reasoned, so a few commonalities didn't mean much of anything

And yet...Hermione couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Everything Malfoy had said was said in complete awareness of real life. More disturbing though, was the location. She briefly thought of the tropical setting, the small house on the beach..._No, _Hermione shook her head. _It couldn't be. _

As if sensing her discomfort, Crookshanks leaped onto her stomach, settling down across her torso.

Hermione scratched behind his ears, comforted by the warm purring against her stomach.

"Tomorrow," Hermione told the cat, "things will be back to normal."

* * *

He didn't show up the next day.

Though she had expected him to, Hermione wasn't totally unsurprised. Malfoy hadn't had a great relationship with his father, and his mixed emotions were probably a lot to sort through.

_Tomorrow he'll be here, _Hermione thought as she approached her lonely apartment door after work. _Tomorrow._

Hermione stayed home from work the next day, fully expecting him to show up.

But he didn't.

The next day Hermione sat at her small kitchen table for most of the day, distractedly reading old books and looking up at the door expectantly (and, if she were being honest with herself, hopefully) every time she thought she heard footsteps in the hall, sagging with annoyance (and, if she were again being honest with herself, disappointment).

But there was no knock that day.

Hermione woke up resolved the next morning. If he didn't show up to her flat by noon that she was going to _his _place.

She wasn't worried per se, but knowing Malfoy's history of questionable mental stability, not knowing what he'd been doing the past few days was gnawing at her insides.

He could be destroying his room again, sucking down half the liquor in Britain while doing so. But Hermione thought the possibility of this was slim; Addison would have called her like he had before.

He could just be laying in bed, motionlessly staring at the ceiling in abject misery. Hermione felt a pang in her heart at the thought, but she didn't think that was very likely, either. His attitude after the funeral and the next morning hadn't suggested imminent zombie-like depression.

More likely, he could be at his mother's house. He had expressed some guilt at leaving her along after the funeral, after all, so he very well might have wanted to make up for it.

For a brief moment, Hermione selfishly wondered if his absence had something to do with her. Perhaps he was embarrassed. Maybe regretful, ashamed, or horrified at how he'd acted towards her that night. Maybe he felt all of those things. Hermione quickly pushed the unpleasant thought out of her mind; Malfoy had more important things to deal with.

Once it hit noon, Hermione marched out of her apartment, opting to go to Malfoy's place by foot in case she ran into him on the way.

She didn't, though she hadn't expected him to, just as she hadn't expected him to show up when she woke up that morning.

"Hey, Hermione," Addison greeted her at the door. "He's upstairs."

"Thanks," Hermione said, stepping through the doorway and shutting the door behind her. "How's he been?"

"You haven't seen him?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not since the day after the funeral."

"Oh," Addison seemed a little surprised by this. "He's been out every day since, I just assumed he was with you."

Hermione shook her head, perplexed.

"Huh. Well, have at it, then."

She nodded before setting off up the stairs, her heart starting to beat a little faster in anticipation. Hermione briefly wondered why she was so anxious, but she didn't dwell on it as she approached his door, which was slightly ajar.

Hermione peeked in. Malfoy was sitting at his desk, sorting through a small stack of papers. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he separated three slightly smaller pieces of paper from the rest of the stack.

Hermione lightly knocked on the door to announce her presence.

He looked up from his papers. The concentration slipped from his expression when he saw her, though the blank look it was replaced with was disconcerting.

"Hey," Hermione said, pulling the door open a little more.

"Do you need something?"

Hermione was taken aback by the annoyance in his voice, though his expression didn't change. "I – I hadn't seen you in a while. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright."

At the last part, Malfoy's expression darkened. "Figures." He stood up, though he didn't move towards her. "Well I'm fine."

It was a dismissal, and Hermione felt her eyes start to burn with the threat of tears brought on by complete, frustrating confusion. She fought them back, her eyes going to the papers on his table. "What are you working on?"

"Nothing that concerns you," he said blankly, stepping so as to block her view.

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

When he realized she wasn't leaving, annoyance flitted across Malfoy's face. "Look, I'm busy."

It was another dismissal, though Hermione ignored it "What have you been up to?" Hermione demanded, craning her neck to try and catch a glimpse of his papers.

"Nothing," he said blankly, though his arm gave an involuntary twitch.

Hermione's gaze travelled down his arm, and she was shocked to see that he'd been gripping his wand. "Is that...?"

"Yes," he replied, having followed her gaze. He held it up in front of his face, gazing at it for a moment. "Figured it was about time to break it out again," he continued, before pointing it directly at her heart.

Hermione froze, her eyes widening. "What are you doing?" she asked in a quavering voice.

"I used to dream about this," Malfoy said bitterly, ignoring her. "Having Hermione Granger on the wrong end of my wand. I used to want that _so bad_."

Hermione felt a sense of dread wash over her. In all her deliberation, she hadn't once considered that Malfoy had been up to anything sinister. But staring at the tip of his wand only a few inches of her face was causing all sort of horrible scenarios to flash through her head.

"And now all I want is to erase the memory of the look on her face when she thought I was going to curse her," Malfoy sighed, his blank expression finally breaking into one of disappointment as he lowered his wand.

Hermione let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Wh-what?"

"Didn't take much did it?"

"Well what did you expect?" Hermione asked angrily. "You weren't exactly welcoming."

"I know," he said, slipping his wand into his pocket.

"So?" Hermione asked expectantly. "What's with the surliness?"

"You surprised me," he replied. "I was supposed to surprise you."

"What?"

"What I've been doing these days," he said, gesturing to the papers on his desk. "I was working on something for you."

Hermione took a few steps towards the desk, eyeing the papers.

Malfoy picked up the smaller slips he had separated and handed them to her.

"I hope you're ready, Granger."

Hermione froze again, staring at him in shock for a moment before forcing her eyes down to the paper, though she knew in the pit of her stomach what the papers were.

Plane tickets.

To Australia.

* * *

**A/N: **Heh, sorry about the mild fake-out with the wand there. Actually I'm not, I thought it was fun. So was the dream. Ohhh, that was cool to write up.

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Gloating over correct suspicions/guesses?


	15. Like Bizzaro Malfoy

**A/N: **Sweet merciful Zeus, was it pain to upload this. was, to put it politely, behaving poorly last night when I first attempted to post this. And it was this morning as well. Eventually I had to edit it one of my previously uploaded documents and replace all the old chapter content with the new text, and I think at one point it made the alert to go out early. Sorry about that, but trust me when I say no one was more annoyed about it than I was. On a lighter note, cookies to anyone who spots the Seinfeld reference.

**Disclaimer:** You know how it goes. Harry Potter isn't mine.

* * *

"Get a refund," Hermione bit out, holding the tickets out to Malfoy.

"What? No!" Malfoy backed away from her outstretched hand.

"Fine. I forgot you never had to worry about wasting money," she hissed, dropping the tickets back on his desk. Hermione's heart was pounding so hard she thought it might blow through her chest.

She was furious. She was terrified. And she was seriously about the lose it.

"I thought you _wanted _to go to your parents!"

"I do!" Hermione nearly screamed. "_When I'm ready!"_

"Yeah?" Malfoy said, starting to look angry himself. "And when is that going to be, Granger? How long is it going to be for you to finally be bored enough to see them?"

Hermione bristled, her eyes starting to sting. "How dare you, you have no idea-"

"How dare I try to help you?" Malfoy demanded, advancing on her. "That's rich."

"I don't need your help," Hermione snapped.

"Yeah, that's right." He rolled his eyes sarcastically. "I forgot you're too good to need help."

"Shut _up_!"

"No." Malfoy was right in front of her, the anger in his face having morphed into something else. "When I told you I wasn't ready all those times, you ignored me. Why?"

Hermione turned her head away, the tears threatening to spill over.

"_Why?_" he demanded again.

"Because," Hermione said thickly. "You needed it."

"Yeah, I needed it. And now you need it."

Hermione felt the first tear slip down her cheek.

"I ended up being glad you ignored me."

"It's not the same."

"It's the same enough," he insisted.

Hermione refused to look at him. "No."

She heard him let out a sigh of frustration, felt the release of air against the side of her face. "Why?"

Unable to speak, Hermione just shook her head.

"Come on, Granger," he insisted gently, reaching up to turn her face towards him with a steady hand. "You don't always have to be so stubborn."

Hermione looked up into his face, her vision blurry with tears. Did he really think she would jump up and down in excitement? That she would thank him profusely, rushing off to pack her bags immediately? She tried to blink back her tears as every emotion she was feeling seemed to amplify. How could he spring this on her like that?

"Come on," Malfoy said again. Hermione tried to turn her head away again, but he wasn't having it, bringing his other hand up to her face and forcing her to look at him. "What are you afraid of?"

_Everything, _Hermione thought wildly as she took in his insistent, yet self-assured expression. And at that moment, it did feel like everything. She was afraid of seeing her parents. She was afraid of airplanes. She was afraid of how she'd handle seeing her parents. She was afraid they wouldn't want her anymore. She was afraid to face what they would think of her and what she'd done. She was afraid her parents would be afraid of _her._

And she was afraid of _him. _She was afraid of this confident, self-assured Malfoy. She was afraid of traveling with him, of having _Draco Malfoy, _of all people, with her as she sought out her parents. She was afraid of needing help from him when it was _him _who was supposed to need help. She was afraid of what their relationship would be like if he didn't need her help anymore. She was afraid of the way he seemed to be looking at her now as he gently held her face between his hands, looking down at her with such determination.

It was all too much.

"No," Hermione choked out, stepping out of his grasp. "I'm sorry, I just can't."

And she turned around and fled before she could see his crestfallen face, wanting nothing more than to just _get away._

She heard him running down the hall behind her, but she didn't slow down, practically throwing herself down the stairs.

"Granger, _stop!_"

Hermione ignored him, leaping onto the landing before bursting through the door, sprinting down the closest alley and pulling out her wand. She turned on the spot the second she was out of sight of the street, knowing she only had a few seconds before he caught up. She recklessly Apparated right into the hall outside her door, attacking the lock with her key and slamming it shut behind her as if the added force would somehow change anything.

Malfoy would be there any second, pounding the door and demanding that she let him in. Hermione stared at the door, trying to catch her breath as she debated whether or not to strengthen her wards to keep him out.

"You forgot about the Floo."

Hermione whirled around to see Malfoy stepping out of her fireplace, gravely examining her panicked state. He was holding his stack of papers, pointedly pretending to dust soot off them.

"Did you really think it would be that easy? After everything you made me do you thought I was just going to let you run away like that?"

Hermione felt like she was going to cry again.

"Okay, so I've worked it all out already."

She tried to protest, but he cut her off.

"Can you just not talk for a few minutes?"

Hermione wilted, setting her wand on the counter despite having the strong urge to put a nice _Silencio _on Malfoy.

"I've already prepared the letters for you to send out to all your silly stores letting them know you're taking a vacation. I told your stupid friends, and I've made the stupid reservations for the planes and hotels and everything. We're leaving tomorrow morning."

She started to say something, but again he cut her off.

"I know it's nearly impossible for you to keep that mouth of yours shut, Granger, but try for a bit." He paused, as if to make sure she wasn't going to protest, before continuing. "Look, I'm sorry I sprung this on you, and I'm sorry it's on short notice, but we're going whether you like it or not."

Hermione sighed in defeat. She didn't know if she was caving because it was easier than fighting more, because she thought he wouldn't give in, or because she realized just how much he'd done to arrange it all. "Okay."

"Here." Malfoy walked up to her to hand her the stack of papers. "I'm sure you're eager to check I did it all right."

Hermione nodded, accepting the papers with a shaking hand. Hermione set them all down on the counter, keeping only the tickets in her hand.

"Why are there three?"

As if it had been planned, her fireplace glowed green and whooshed with an incoming guest.

"Sorry I'm late," Harry said, stepping into her living room and dropping his rucksack on the floor. "Everything all set?"

Hermione gaped at him.

"Right, Potter's coming, too."

"What, you hadn't told her yet?" Harry demanded, glaring at Malfoy.

"Yeah, about that...I've only just told her about the trip."

"_What?_"

Hermione walked mutely to the couch to sit down.

"Why did you wait so long? Were you trying to give her an aneurism?"

"I didn't see you telling her, Potter."

"You only just told _me_ yesterday!" Harry accused, continuing to glare at Malfoy.

"No need to harp, it's all sorted out now," Malfoy said haughtily.

Hermione looked between the two of them, positively dumbfounded. "So...you asked Harry to come?"

"He thought you might have been more receptive with me there," Harry explained, sitting down next to her. "And I thought you'd probably want a friend along, anyway."

"Malfoy's my friend now, too, Harry," Hermione muttered, though she felt herself tearing up again. Because he was right; the idea of Harry being there made it all seem much more bearable. She smiled at Harry before looking back to Malfoy. She was surprised to find that he was frowning at her. "What?"

"Nothing. You should probably start packing," Malfoy said, stepping towards the fireplace and grabbing a handful of Floo powder from the pot on the floor. "Try not to slow her down, Potter. I'll hold you responsible if we're late tomorrow." And he was gone.

Hermione sunk into the couch, letting out a deep breath. "Wow."

"Yeah," Harry sighed, leaning back next to her. "What a dick."

"Don't," Hermione warned. "I'll end up murdering the both of you if you keep up the bickering."

"I'd promise to stop, but I don't think I would keep it very well," Harry admitted. "I almost hexed him out of pure shock when he showed up at my place."

"How'd that go?" Hermione asked, amused at the thought. She wished someone had filmed the encounter.

"Not good. He was rude and arrogant and all that, as usual," Harry said with a snort that clearly suggested this was an understatement. "So I was rude and arrogant back, and then he sucked it up and told me what he was doing with the trip to Australia. I nearly passed out from the shock."

"Same here."

"I thought he might have been pulling a really cruel joke at first."

"What convinced you he wasn't?" Hermione asked curiously.

Harry shrugged. "Once he stopped lobbing insults, he just seemed really sincere."

"Yeah?"

"It just seemed...really important to him," Harry said vaguely. "Not that I cared about what was important to him, obviously," Harry added with another snort.

"I can't believe he thought to ask you," Hermione mused.

"Very un-Malfoyish."

"Like Bizzaro Malfoy."

Harry laughed. "Yeah," he said, looking thoughtful. "But it's weird..."

"What is?"

"It almost didn't seem weird at the time."

Hermione stared at him. "That made absolutely no sense whatsoever, Harry."

"It really doesn't," Harry said, laughing again.

Hermione sighed. "Thanks."

"You don't have to thank me, Hermione. I would have gone with you whenever you decided if you asked."

"I know," Hermione said, laying her head on his shoulder. "I thought...I always thought Ron would have, too."

"I thought so as well." Harry hesitated for a moment. "Malfoy asked him."

"_What?_" Hermione shrieked, shooting back up. "Malfoy asked _Ron?_"

"Needless to say, it didn't go over well."

"How'd you find out?"

"I was there. Malfoy asked me to go with him right after he talked to me."

Hermione's mouth fell open.

"You probably already guessed, but Ron refused to go. Malfoy even told him he'd skip it if that was what Ron's problem was, but it was no good."

Sick as she was of tearing up, Hermione felt her eyes start to sting. She felt sick to her stomach that Ron was still so mad that he refused to accompany on something so important to her. At the same time, she felt touched that Malfoy had been willing to go to such lengths to get her to go to Australia.

"It was intense. Ron told me I was a traitor and a bad friend and all that, and he threw about a dozen different insults at Malfoy, and he said he didn't even know you anymore."

Hermione choked down a sob. "He did?"

"He doesn't really mean it," Harry said. "You know how he gets when he's in a rage."

"I know," Hermione replied.

"And it's not really you, it's Malfoy." Harry paused, clearing his throat awkwardly. "He thinks you're replacing him with Malfoy. You know, _that_ _way_."

"He what? I'm not – it's not like that! And Ron and I weren't really together – not officially!" Hermione spluttered.

"Not officially," Harry muttered, still looking highly uncomfortable. "But you still...you know."

Hermione blushed.

"And now he thinks you and Malfoy..."

"It's not like that." Hermione stopped, catching sight of Harry's skeptical expression. "It's not!"

"It just seems..." Harry drifted off again.

"Like what?" Hermione demanded.

Harry sighed. "Like he's doing an awful lot for a girl he used to hate."

"I told you, we're _friends_ now."

"And it seems like he hates that."

"You're crazy," Hermione said, shaking her head calmly so as not to betray her internal panic.

"_Look, I don't think of you as a child!" Hermione said again._

"_Then what do you think of me as?"_

_Hermione studied his face, which was both frustrated and curious. "A friend, I guess."_

"_You guess?" he asked sarcastically._

"_Well, what do you want me to think of you as?" Hermione asked exasperatedly._

"_You don't know?" he asked quietly._

"You're crazy," Hermione said again; since when had Harry been perceptive, anyway? Though at this point, she was wondering if maybe she was the crazy one. Or maybe her dreams were just crazy. Yes, that was it. Her dreams were crazy and so were Harry and Ron.

Harry shrugged. "If you say so."

Hermione stood up. "Are you staying here tonight?"

"Yeah, Ginny's staying with Ron. Trying to talk to some sense into him while we're gone, I imagine."

"I'm going to go ahead and pack."

"Alright," Harry replied, grabbing the television remote. "And Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

Harry smiled at her. "It's going to work out, you know. With your parents."

Hermione wondered, sometimes, what she had done to earn a friend like Harry Potter. "Thanks, Harry."

* * *

**A/N: **You know all those jokes about how Harry was such a Ron/Hermione cockblocker at Hogwarts? If you don't, mosey on over to tumblr to find some to remind yourself.

Which leads me to: I know some of you are probably not very happy Draco and Hermione won't be having a little getaway all to themselves, but I had to be realistic, people, so I'm not sorry. If it's at all pacifying, Harry being along for the trip will not detract from the juicy Draco/Hermione bits coming up. But if that's not enough and you still need to express your disappointment, I direct you to the comments.

Next up: Australia!


	16. I Can't Believe You Don't Know

**A/N:** This update was super quick for a reason. The last chapter was a bridge chapter, one that I didn't actually enjoy writing. But it was a necessary evil, as I couldn't just skip all the important stuff that had to happen. So here you go!

And because I like including slick pop culture references (that was one itself, actually), there's another one in here.

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize it, it's not mine. Only thing that's mine is the plot.

* * *

"You didn't have to be so rude to her."

"It's not my fault they offer such horrible food as a 'meal,' Potter."

"I think calling her tasteless was uncalled for."

"If serving meatloaf doesn't qualify someone as tasteless I don't know what does."

"She's just a flight attendant, she doesn't actually decide which meals to serve."

"How do you know?"

"I-"

"Shut up, both of you right now, or I'll ask her to reseat you." Hermione glared at each of them in turn. She had stupidly decided to sit in between them. She'd originally figured this would have deterred them from bickering, but they had taken the seating arrangement in stride and proceeded to argue anyway, putting her right in the crossfire of insults.

"Sorry, Hermione," Harry said, sending one last glare at Malfoy.

"I'm not," Malfoy muttered, gazing distastefully at his untouched food.

The meal was, admittedly, quite atrocious. Hermione had barely touched hers, though part of that had been due to the fact that she'd waken up that morning feeling queasy. She'd slept horribly, her mind boggled down with worst-case scenarios involved her parents. She'd also been anxious about such a long travel with Harry and Malfoy, as there had never been a chance for them to cooperate peacefully in such confined space. Hermione had even forced the two of them to pack their wands in her luggage, even stowing hers away so as not to be tempted herself.

"If you had only let me have my wand, I could have improved it a bit," Malfoy said bitterly.

Hermione threw him a glare. She still hadn't quite forgiven him for springing the trip on her, and his rotten attitude he'd had since he'd shown up at her flat at the crack of dawn was doing nothing to change that.

"Don't glare at me like me like that," Malfoy protested lowly so only Hermione could hear. "You didn't eat yours, either."

"What are you saying?" Harry demanded, leaning over Hermione to give Malfoy a dirty look.

"Get out of my way, I've changed my mind – I want those headphones after all," Hermione said, pushing Harry back. She'd declined the headphones earlier, having no interest in watching the mindless action movie the flight was playing. Now, however, it seemed like a welcome opportunity to tune out the two boys. They could bicker all they want as long as she didn't have to hear it.

When she got back to her seat after retrieved the headphones, Harry had moved into her seat.

"I thought it'd be easier if you had the aisle seat," Harry explained when she raised a questioning eyebrow. She thought he looked pleased with himself.

Malfoy snorted, glaring out the window.

"Fine. But _be nice_."

* * *

The first layover was unbearable. Harry and Malfoy wouldn't agree at which crappy fast-food restaurant to eat at, and they argued the entire time once they finally decided on a place. When they got to their terminal there were hardly any seats available together, and Malfoy threw a minor temper tantrum when Harry darted into the seat next to Hermione, resulting in Malfoy having to sit three benches away by himself.

The next flight wasn't so long, and Hermione was beyond grateful that none of their seats were together, allowing her to take a short but peaceful nap.

The first thing she did at the second layover was purchase a cheap disc player from a small electronics kiosk, along with a few CDs she'd picked out a random. The third flight, wherein she sat between Harry and Malfoy again, was infinitely better with the disc player. Hermione noticed they didn't bicker as much when she couldn't hear them, and she eventually drifted off to sleep to the sounds of her mediocre music.

"Hermione, we're about to land," Harry said, gently nudging her awake. Her headphones had slipped off her ears a little in her sleep, and she gratefully removed them.

She sat up, rubbing her neck, which had a painful crick in it. "We are?" She looked past him out the window. It was evening in Australia, as the sky was starting to fade. "What time is it?"

"Eight-ish, I think," Harry said, glancing at his watch. "I don't remember the time difference, exactly."

"Figures," Malfoy grumbled from Hermione's other side.

Hermione ignored him. She was actually _here_, in Australia, closer to her parents than she'd been in years. She was going to see them soon, tomorrow even, if she could handle it. Before Hermione could stop it, she felt herself shaking with tears.

"You okay?" she heard Malfoy ask.

Hermione shook her head, covering her face with her hands. She felt Harry's arm go around her shoulders, and she gratefully folded into him, allowing the sobs to come. Hermione didn't like to cry in front of people, but she seemed powerless to stop the tears as her emotions washed over her.

She hadn't thought this day would come for a long time, and now it was here against her wishes. Hermione didn't _feel _ready, no matter what Malfoy said.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. A stressful, surreal blur. Hermione burst into tears a few times: once at baggage claim, twice in the taxi to the hotel, and as soon she entered the suite Malfoy had rented.

At some point, Malfoy disappeared into his part of the room. The suite was split into two rooms. He'd claimed the room with the king bed for himself, refusing to share a room with Harry. Harry, who likewise didn't want to share a room with Malfoy, insisted he and Hermione take the same room. Hermione, curled up on one of the double beds and not particularly caring who took the other one in the room, just wanted them to shut up so she could go to sleep.

But sleep didn't come. After Malfoy had left, Harry had settled into the bed next to Hermione's. He didn't try to talk her out of crying, and he didn't try to talk to her once she stopped. Hermione was grateful at first, until she realized sleep wasn't going to come anytime soon.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered to the dark room.

But Harry's only answer was his heavy breathing; he was asleep.

Hermione rolled onto her back. She simultaneously felt exhausted and wide awake. She was exhausted from not having slept hardly at all the night before, but her nerves were spiked so high that sleep didn't even seem like an option.

She could hear movement in the next room, and once glance at the light protruding under the doors confirmed that Malfoy was still awake. Hermione deliberated for a few moments before slipping out of bed and through the double doors to the next room as quietly as she could. Malfoy, who was sitting on the bed studying the channel guide, looked up at her arrival.

"I can't sleep," she said quietly by way of explanation.

"Not surprised," he replied, setting the channel guide down on the bedside table.

Hermione went sit on the edge of his bed. "Me neither."

"Want to talk about it?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, rubbing her eyes. "I'm still mad at you."

"I know."

"And if this doesn't go over well, I'm not sure I'll ever stop being mad at you."

"I know."

"And I know the result would be the same even if it was two years from now, but I wouldn't stop being angry with you either way."

"I know."

"And I know it's not fair because I brought this on myself, but I'll still blame you."

"I know."

"Stop _saying_ that," Hermione demanded, frustrated. She probably should have been glad he was being understanding, but for some reason it really annoyed her.

"Okay."

Hermione leaned back against the headboard, her head feeling overly heavy.

"But if things work out with your parents, do I get credit?"

Hermione glared at him.

"I'm just saying, it's a bit of a double-standard if I get blamed for things going wrong but I don't get credit for things going well."

"Shut up."

"Okay."

Hermione glared at him again. "Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop making it hard for me to be mad at you." She knew logically she shouldn't be mad at him for putting up with her exhaustion-induced unreasonableness so well, but she couldn't stop herself being annoyed by it.

Malfoy's mouth twitched in amusement. "Would you rather me a prat?"

"Yes," Hermione said petulantly.

"Okay. Potter's a wanker, he's gone out of his way to be annoying, and I think you should send him home."

"Not going to happen," Hermione snapped, though she relaxed a little.

"You should cut him loose. You have terrible taste in friends."

"You've just insulted yourself," Hermione pointed out.

Malfoy scowled. "No I didn't."

Hermione tensed. What was it Harry had said when she'd told him Malfoy was her friend? _And it seems like he hates that. _Hermione briefly, desperately wanted to demand what Malfoy meant with his answer, why he seemed to hate the idea of them being friends.

Hermione quashed the idea, not sure she wanted to know "What time are we going tomorrow?" she asked instead, changing the subject.

Malfoy shrugged. "Whenever you feel like it. We already have the address, so we don't have to waste any time there."

"We do?" Hermione was surprised.

"Um, did you not read through those papers after all?"

Hermione blushed. "I forgot."

"You forgot? _You?_" Malfoy laughed quietly. "You're joking."

"I had a lot on my mind, okay?" Hermione said defensively.

"Yeah, okay," Malfoy said, still laughing.

"Why are you laughing at m-" Hermione started, before freezing. _Why are you laughing at me? _

"You used to do homework for _fun_, and you 'forgot' to read something? It's hilarious, Granger," Malfoy said, not noticing anything.

Hermione picked at her shirt hem. "I'm sorry."

"For what? Being distracted?" Malfoy raised his eyebrows, though he still looked amused. "You don't have to be sorry for being distracted.

"You did all that work..."

"Yeah, for _you_," he said. "Not me. As if I wanted to blow a bunch of money to travel to some forsaken island where's it's entirely too hot."

"But you did."

Malfoy shrugged. "It wasn't my idea."

Hermione sat up, surprised. "It wasn't?"

"No." Malfoy sighed. "It was my mother's idea."

"Your mother's? Wait..." Hermione thought back to Malfoy refusing to tell her what his mother had made him promise months ago at the Manor. "This is what she made you promise her you'd do, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Malfoy admitted. "But I would have done it eventually even if she hadn't."

She eyed him curiously. "Really?"

"You don't believe me." It wasn't a question.

"Maybe." Hermione looked at him closely, searching for any hint of sarcasm. She found, however, only confident sincerity, accompanied by a slight disappointment that she might not believe him.

"You should," he said. "After everything."

"Why?" Hermione thought about everything they had been through the last few months. It should have been easy to imagine him going out of his way for her after all she had done for him. That's what friends did, after all. And though she had long ago accepted that Malfoy wasn't the same as he was back when they were schoolmates, she couldn't help but let a few old prejudices slip in from time to time.

This was one of those times.

Hermione thought to back to all the terrible insults he'd thrown at her and her friends, at his horrible behavior towards younger students and certain members of the faculty. She remembered him gleefully taunting her, Ron, and Harry at the Quidditch World Cup, delighted at the idea of the group of Death Eaters catching her.

She knew that was a different Draco Malfoy. She knew he had changed drastically, that he didn't believe in those things anymore, that he was better. She shouldn't have such a problem taking his word.

Malfoy looked at her a little sadly, as if knowing what was going through her head. "You don't know?"

Hermione's heartbeat seemed to stop for a long, painful second before returning at a rate that felt like three times the natural speed. "Wh-what?"

"I can't believe you don't know."

She knew what was going to happen before it happened, saw him lean in before he actually did. Hermione thought her head might explode in shock as his lips met hers, his hand cupping the side of her face.

It was different than the last time, when he had been drunk. Hermione could feel the difference all over; could feel his steady hand against her face, the gentle feel of his lips moving against hers. And she could feel it in _her_. The last time, she felt nothing but shock. Now, she felt her skin on fire, her heart in her throat, her lips pressing against his seemingly of their own will.

A voice in the back her head was screaming at her, probably to stop, but her brain felt sluggish and the voice seemed nearly incomprehensible. Hermione's senses were on overload, and the voice seemed to fade away as Malfoy's other arm went around her waist, drawing her obliged, a hand going up to his chest. She could feel his heart pounding through his shirt as the loss deepened. Her hand slid up to go around his neck, pulling him even closer.

He wanted this. Hermione could feel it as he kissed her more urgently, as his arm tightened around her. At that moment Hermione felt as if she might want to it to. Later, Hermione would wonder if perhaps she felt that way because she was too tired to think logically.

Currently, however, Hermione couldn't think logically. All she could think of was _him_.

* * *

**A/N:** Having never been to Australia, forgive me if the time difference seems wrong. I left it vague just in case. I've only ever been to Western Europe, so I have very little idea as to the time difference between London and Australia. The same will apply to the geography aspect (i.e., it will be vague). Ugh, why couldn't Hermione have sent her parents to New Zealand? I actually know a bit about Middle-Earth!

Anyway, I'd _love_ to know what you all think, be it bad or good.


	17. This Isn't a Joke!

**A/N:** I know, I know. I took a long time again. There were the usual excuses – lack of muse, mild writer's block, spending too much time on tumblr, general laziness, etc. – but also some concrete reasons, such as my usual end of semester and finals week ritual of playing Super Smash Bros. Melee to avoid any type of studying/research paper writing. That isn't something I can compromise on, people. Also, there was that little matter of GRADUATING COLLEGE to take care of. Then I was on vacation for two weeks. Actually, I did write a little on vacation. Not much because I was too busy laying around at the beach/pool, kayaking, zip lining, and so on, but some. Anyway, enough babbling!

**Disclaimer:** As usual, if you recognize it, it isn't mine. The only thing that's mine is the plot.

* * *

Hermione stared out at the brightening sky. She'd been laying awake for hours, having only slept fitfully for a short time before waking back up. She was now curled up on her side, staring out the window and wondering why she had behaved so recklessly the previous night.

It had taken a while, but Hermione had eventually come to her senses.

"_No," Hermione gasped, breaking away from him. "I can't."_

_He looked at her with wild eyes, breathing heavily and asking her to stay without words._

"_I'm sorry," she whispered, sliding off his bed. She backed away towards the doors, her hand covering her mouth. "This is wrong..."_

_He didn't say anything, but there was no mistaking the flash of hurt that crossed his face. _

"_I'm sorry," she said again, disappearing through the doors before he could say anything else._

She had started crying again once she got back to her bed, out of confusion and shame. She hadn't come here for herself or for Malfoy; she'd come here for her parents, and she'd acted selfishly.

Then she had gotten mad. She was mad at herself for having gone to his room in the first place instead of waking up Harry. Harry was her best friend, after all, and neither of them had ever given much care to waking the other up in times of duress. Cringing in shame at the possibility that she'd gone to Malfoy looking for anything other than friendly words of comfort, Hermione had spent what felt like hours berating herself. At some point, her anger had shifted away from herself, and decided that she was more mad at Malfoy than herself, as he had been the one who had taken advantage of her emotionally distressed state to physically express his feelings, which she vehemently wrote off as confused and misguided.

Eventually, she had settled somewhere between anger and confusion. Then she just felt _tired. _

* * *

"Hermione."

Hermione pulled the covers over her head. It felt like it had only been a minute since she'd fallen asleep. She could feel Harry sitting on her bed next to her, and she had to resist the urge to push him off and go back to sleep.

"Hermione, wake up."

She groaned in response. "What time is it?"

"About eight in the morning."

Hermione groaned again. The last time she'd checked the clock it had been just after 5:30 AM. "But I've barely slept!"

She heard Harry chuckle. "Um, you've been asleep for over a day, actually."

"What?" Hermione finally opened her eyes. "A day?"

"Malfoy wanted to wake you up yesterday 'to get this all over with,' but I overruled him. You're welcome."

Hermione shut her eyes again. Malfoy. The memory of their encounter made its way back to her mind, and the memory made her want to curl up under the covers and stay there until she forgot the whole thing.

"Thanks," she mumbled. She sat up with a grimace, rubbing her eyes and hoping beyond hope that Malfoy wasn't in the room.

Luck was on her side; he wasn't there.

"I got some food yesterday," Harry said, pointing to the table on the other side of the room. "There wasn't much leftover because Malfoy ate most of it, so I got some breakfast things from the lobby earlier."

"Thanks," Hermione said again. She _was_ hungry.

Harry's selection of food wasn't bad, but sweet rolls and jam couldn't remedy the uneasiness Hermione felt.

She was uneasy because she was in Australia – because she was here to restore her parents' memories, because there was a chance they wouldn't forgive her. She was uneasy because of what had happened with Malfoy – because it happened, because of who it happened with, because it happened at the worst possible time imaginable.

But mostly she was uneasy because she knew today she would have to confront both of the things which were making her stomach do nervous flips. Today she would have to face Malfoy after what had happened, and today she was going to see her parents.

"Leave some food for Malfoy. He was in a foul enough mood yesterday, I'd rather not give him a reason to be a prat again today."

Hermione tried to keep her voice normal. "He was in a bad mood?"

"I mean, he's usually a prat, but it was to the extreme yesterday," Harry replied. "When I refused to wake you up he looked like he wanted to hit me. I'm surprised you didn't wake up, actually. I'm pretty sure he was being loud on purpose so that you'd wake up just to spite me. Or maybe you, since he seemed really annoyed by your continued state of unconsciousness."

"Where is he now?" Hermione asked carefully. She couldn't help but feel a little disappointed; the way Harry was describing his behavior, Malfoy's anger seemed to be directed at her.

"Asleep, maybe," Harry shrugged. "He disappeared into his room after I got back with dinner last night and hasn't reappeared since."

"You sound real broken up about it," Hermione mumbled.

"I'm not."

Hermione sighed. "I kno- never mind."

"So, um." Harry cleared his throat nervously. "I rented a car yesterday."

Hermione put the croissant she had just taken a bite of back down, her stomach clenching into a nervous knot.

"How far away are – how long is the drive?" Hermione stuttered.

"About half an hour, according to the receptionist." Harry hesitated a moment before continuing. "You're ready, right?"

Hermione thought about it for a few moments. Yes, she was beyond nervous and her stomach turned every time she thought about the possibility of her parents being angry at her. But...they were her parents, and they were here and so was she, and the thought of having them back in her life – regardless of how mad they might be – was somehow calming. Now that she was on the brink of seeing them, a hint of excitement seemed to be creeping into her system. And though the excitement was still far outweighed by nervousness, its presence did have a bit of a calming effect.

"Yeah," Hermione nodded. "I think I am."

"Great, I'll get Malfoy up."

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, causing Harry to give her a puzzled look. "I mean, Malfoy probably doesn't want to come along anyway."

Harry continued to eye her with confusion. "He was the one who planned all this."

"I know," Hermione replied, her eyes shifting to the door that led to his bedroom. "But I don't know id it's a good idea that he come along."

"Why? I thought...you two were close?"

"Well, yeah, but..." Hermione trailed off ineffectively.

"Did you have a row with him?"

"You could say that," Hermione answered vaguely.

"When?" Harry asked curiously. "You were asleep for so long and everything seemed fine before then."

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said briskly, standing up. "Wake him if you must. I need to get ready."

* * *

Three-quarters of an hour later, Harry was bent over the steering wheel of their rental car trying to watch both the road and his wand, which was charmed to point in the direction of Hermione's parents' house. Hermione was sitting in the passenger seat, holding Harry's wand in one palm as she idly admired the scenery while inwardly rehearsing things to say to her parents. She was studiously ignoring the sullen blond wizard in the backseat, who hadn't spoken a word to her since he'd emerged from his room. They'd been driving for nearly twenty minutes, and Malfoy had done nothing but glare out the window. Not that Hermione minded much. She'd rather him be silently angry for a variety of reasons, the biggest of which was that she didn't need him to distract her focus.

"Harry," Hermione said suddenly after she felt Harry's wand grow warmer and turn in her palm. "I think we're almost there."

"Right," Harry muttered, glancing down at his wand to see which direction he needed to turn. "This must be their road, then."

Hermione eagerly took in the road they had just turned on to. It was a residential road, but it was a quiet one, with modestly-sized homes spaced far apart from one another. There were only a few children outside playing, and Hermione wondered if many of the families on the road were like her parents and didn't have children living with them. The houses became more isolated as the road went on, and when Hermione looked past Harry at one point she was surprised to see the ocean wasn't too far away.

"You think they have a beach property?" Harry asked excitedly, who had also noticed the proximity of the ocean.

Hermione's mind briefly flashed with the image from her dream of a house on a beach. "Yeah, perhaps," Hermione muttered her eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror. Malfoy was still glaring out the window and completely ignoring them.

After a few more minutes, the end of the road was in sight, and there was only one house left.

"What's that number say?" Harry asked, slowing to try and read the number on the house. "Is that a twenty-six or a twenty-eight?"

"It's twenty-six. That's it," Malfoy said tonelessly.

Hermione felt her stomach turn over in a mix of excitement and anxiety. "This is it?"

"That's what I just said," Malfoy muttered irritably.

Hermione ignored him. She looked up at the house, which was situated on the last grassy area before the beach began. The house was a bit smaller than their old one – it was only one story – but still a good size. There were gardens all along the front lawn, and Hermione felt her eyes start to water at the knowledge that her parents had maintained their passion for gardening. The window closest to the car was to the kitchen, and Hermione was gazing int it when her mother suddenly came into her view, pulling out a chair to sit down at the table. "Oh god, Harry," Hermione breathed. "Now I'm not sure if I can do this!" Hermione looked down at her shaking hands, one of which was still holding Harry's wand.

"Sure you can," Harry responded soothingly.

Hermione shook her head mutely as she saw her father join her mother at the kitchen table. She knew if she came face to face with them there was a strong chance she'd simply be too overcome with emotion to cast the spell properly.

"We drove all the way out here," Malfoy said from the backseat, not bothering to hide his annoyance at her hesitation. "Paid for a rental car and everything."

"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry snapped.

"Harry, I can't do it," Hermione said shakily, tearing her eyes away from her parents to look at her friend. She held his wand out to him.

"What?" Harry asked, looking down at her outstretched hand. "You want me to do it?"

"Please," she whispered, turning her gaze back to the kitchen window and the sight of her parents.

"You think they'll respond well to me?" Harry asked warily. "They've only met me a few times..."

"They love you," Hermione responded, quite truthfully. She'd talked about her friends with them a lot, and they knew all about Harry. Though they'd only met him a few times, her parents had loved him. She didn't know if it was his awful childhood that had endeared him to them or his uncanny (and oftentimes unintentional) ability to inspire loyalty in people who barely knew him or some combination of the two, but her parents always had asked about Harry's well-being before they inquired about her other school friends.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione cut him off. "You know the spell?"

"Yeah, of course-"

"And the timelines?"

"Yes, but-"

"Harry, please" Hermione implored him.

With a hearty sigh, Harry plucked his wand out of her hand. "Alright."

"Thanks," Hermione breathed.

"Do you want me to, er, explain a few things before I come get you?"

Hermione nodded.

"Okay," Harry said, giving his head a little shake. "Wish me luck."

Hermione watched Harry walk up the drive to the front door, frozen in anticipation. This was it.

It almost seemed like things were moving in slow-motion as Harry lifted a fist to knock on the door. Hermione's eyes slid to the kitchen window, watching her parents curiously look towards the front door for a moment before her mother stood to answer. As she walked out of view, her father looked out the window at the car, and before Hermione could avert her gaze he'd made eye contact.

"Oh god," Hermione whispered, looking back towards the door as it swung open and her mother greeted Harry. "Oh god," she said again as she watched them exchange a few words. "What if they don't let him in? What if they think he's suspicious and slam the door in his face?"

"Please, people piss themselves to get a meeting with Potter," Malfoy replied grumpily.

Hermione ignored him, letting out a sigh of relief as her mother ushered Harry inside. Hermione leaned forward in the seat, watching as her mother led Harry into the kitchen. Her father stood to shake his hand, and Hermione briefly wondered what Harry had said to get invited in.

"'Please don't take this to hard, but your beloved daughter callously erased your memories of her and then sent you across the globe,'" Malfoy said in what was probably meant to be an imitation of Harry's voice.

"I'm sorry, _what _is your problem?" Hermione snapped, turning in her seat to glare back at him. "This isn't a joke!"

Malfoy glared back at her, his mouth twitching as if he was thinking about answering her. After a long moment of this, he looked away, slouching in his seat. Accepting that he wasn't going to answer, Hermione turned back around. She knew what his problem was, of course, and she wondered if his refusal to rise to the bait was a mark of the "new" Malfoy. In the past, he would have snapped at her without a moment's hesitation. Now, though, she suspected he was suppressing his urge to say something cutting for the sake of timing. Or, she thought wryly, he was so sore with her that he simply wanted to keep interaction with her to a minimum.

Once again, Hermione felt a wave of irritation at Malfoy wash over her. He, not her, was the one who'd acted selfishly the other night.

Brushing all her Malfoy-related feelings aside – for this truly wasn't the time to dwell on them – Hermione returned her gaze to the kitchen window. She felt her stomach drop as she processed the fact that her parents were looking around them in confusion.

"I think he's done it," Hermione whispered anxiously, hardly able to speak for the butterflies in her stomach.

And then quite suddenly both of her parents simultaneously looked out the window at her, and Hermione felt the first tears starting to form in her eyes at their expressions, which were not angry but hopeful and – unless her eyes were cheating her – relieved.

Without any hesitation, Hermione yanked the door open and threw herself out of the car, breaking into a sprint – a slightly stumbling sprint due to what was now her near-hysterical crying – towards her parents' door. Before she got there, the door flew open and the next thing she knew, she was engulfed in her parents' arms.

* * *

**A/N:** If sleeping over 24 hours seemed unrealistic, I can personally attest to it being very realistic. When I went to France last summer I slept for an entire day uninterrupted. I'd been awake for over 24 hours traveling, which led me to be nearly delirious with total exhaustion, and I just passed out and stayed passed out. And I made Hermione go longer without sleep than I did, so yeah. She slept a long time.

And I know this chapter consisted of entirely too much filler, but it was all kind of necessary. I cut down on some of it, but...well, again, necessity played a role in how much I cut out. I thought about making the chapter longer so there would be more non-filler type content, but it was already kind of long and there wouldn't have really been a great ending point for a while, so yeah.

P.S. As per usual when I resurface after a lengthy absence, the next chapter will be up soon. And it's pretty much the total opposite of filler.


	18. Come Back Down

**A/N:** So, okay. This chapter wasn't meant to be twice as long as my usual chapter length, but I needed everything that happens in it to be in the same chapter, and there wasn't really a way to make it shorter while also making it satisfying. I hated the last chapter so much (damn necessity!) but I luuurve this one.

**Disclaimer:** If you recognize it, it isn't mine. The only thing that's mine is the plot.

* * *

Hermione hadn't felt so wildly happy in years. Nestled between her parents on their living room couch, she only half-listened to Harry's recounting of the year they'd spent camping in random forests and bringing down Voldemort for good. She wasn't sure she could have paid full attention if she'd wanted to, as her whole body seemed to be humming in contentment. She knew she probably resembled a child instead of a grown woman at the moment, with her head resting on her father's shoulder while her mother stroked her hair, but she didn't think it was possible for her to care less.

Harry and Malfoy had been right; her parents hadn't been mad at her in the slightest. They'd gently scolded her for ever thinking they would be mad, but it was a brief scolding with no real anger behind it. Her father had even gone on to admit that he wouldn't have expected his daughter to anything other than over-analyze the situation too much, a statement her mother laughingly agreed with.

"All that matters it that you're okay," her mother had tearfully proclaimed, and Hermione and her parents had subsequently dissolved into another round of tearful hugging.

There had been a minor moment of awkwardness when Hermione had introduced her parents to Malfoy, who had eventually wandered over to the group to awkwardly stand next to Harry, muttering something about it being too hot to wait in the car.

"Didn't you hate him?" her father had asked her, eyeing Malfoy suspiciously. "Isn't he that boy who tried to kill your headmaster?"

Hermione had offered the very detailed and specific answer of "it's complicated" before Harry had helpfully changed the subject by suggesting they move inside because he burned easily.

Her parents were currently enraptured by Harry's storytelling. Hermione hadn't ever thought Harry a particularly enthralling storyteller, but he'd always charmed the pants off her parents, and so she was unsurprised at their attentiveness. Though she'd only been half-listening, Hermione did register Harry's hesitation when he got to the horrific events at Malfoy Manor. She listened carefully at this point, and breathed a small sigh of relief when Harry described the youngest Malfoy as a reluctant stander by who had done little more than stand about and offer minimal resistance when Harry had disarmed him. Harry, she knew, had told it this way for her sake, not Malfoy's. She knew he didn't gave a scrap about her parents responding negatively to the presence of Malfoy, but he knew she did.

Hermione's eyes drifted over to Malfoy, who was standing by the window and looking out the window at the ocean, seemingly not paying a bit of attention to Harry's speaking. As if sensing her eyes on him, he turned his head to look over at her. He was probably aiming for expressionless, but Hermione noted the slight furrow to his brow that gave him away – he had been listening and had registered Harry's slight alterations to what had happened that night in his home.

She offered him a small smile, deciding in that moment that she could push aside her anger at him for now. Hermione felt a tinge of disappointment when his only response was to drop his gaze to his feet before looking back out at the water. She hadn't expected him to offer a smile in return, but she thought he might at least nod in acknowledgment or relax enough to sit down.

The utter happiness Hermione had felt coursing through her stalled for a few minutes. She knew he was angry because she'd run out on him, but hadn't he known his timing was horrendous? Maybe if she hadn't been on the cusp of restoring her parents' memories she'd have been thinking more rationally and been able to let him down in a gentler manner. If she hadn't been in such a vulnerable state, things wouldn't have gone on as long as they had, and it would have been easier to tell him no.

_Yes, that's what would have happened_, Hermione thought defensively, not allowing her thoughts to wander into any other possibilities.

"Oh honey, please tell me you saved it or invested it," her mother said, breaking Hermione away from her thoughts.

"Huh?" Hermione, who hadn't been listening at all for a while, wasn't sure where Harry was in the story.

"Harry says your magical government gave you a large sum of money for your efforts," her father said.

"Oh, right," Hermione replied. "I used it to open a chain of bookstores and saved what was left."

Her parents exchanged satisfied glances with each other before urging her tell her all about her chain and where she was living and her life in general. They listened eagerly as she detailed how she started her business and how she'd been living since the war ended, and Hermione forgot all about Malfoy as she listened to her parents' tell her about life in Australia.

"It was so confusing at first, when Harry gave us our memories back," her mother pointed out at some point. "And it's still a little confusing to remember living as someone else, but all's well."

As it turned out, her parents had opened a dental practice once they'd relocated, having not lost the memories (or degrees) of having spent years working on people's teeth. Hermione was glad to hear it.

Eventually, her parents declared that she was to stay with them until she returned to England, and Harry and Malfoy were welcome to stay as well.

"We have plenty of room. Too much for just two, really. I guess our subconscious thought it might be good to have room for relatives who visited, though of course we didn't think we had any," her mother said as she ushered the three around to give them a tour of the house. "This one we set up for children for whatever reason," she gestured to the pair of twin beds outfitted with kangaroo blankets, "so you boys can stay in here."

Hermione laughed openly at the thought of Harry and Malfoy sharing a room while sleeping in matching beds.

"Shut up," Harry said, nudging her playfully in the shoulder.

Upstairs, her mother paused outside the other guest room. "Honey, I'm afraid you made a mistake in your preparations."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Well, you see, you didn't get rid of all your things, and so your father and I wondered why we had a room that looked as if it had been inhabited by a teenaged girl."

"Oh!" Hermione hadn't thought much about it at the time; she'd assumed her parents would have thought it was just a personalized guest room.

"We thought perhaps we had a relative who visited so much that she'd set up her own room and left a absurdly large amount of clothing behind. Anyway, we couldn't think of any relative we knew who would do that, because of course we had new memories – oh, it's still so confusing! Anyway, we thought that perhaps we were going prematurely senile and ought to relocate her things in case she wanted to visit again." Her mother smiled at her before opening the bedroom door.

"Oh my god," Hermione breathed, stepping into the room. It was almost an exact replica of her old bedroom, and Hermione was relieved to see that her bedclothes hadn't been switched out for kangaroo blankets. She laughed as she realized how funny it was that that had been the first thing she had checked, and she couldn't wipe the grin off her face as she moved about her room, opening the drawers to see all her old clothes and forgetting to be embarrassed when she saw her old stuffed animals on the bed.

Hermione looked out the window, and felt a surge of pleasure: her room had an ocean view. Even the sight of a dock with a small boat attached to it – a boat that was entirely too familiar – barely darkened her elation.

"You two better go back to that bleeding hotel to get all your things," her mother instructed Harry and Malfoy as Hermione stretched out on her old bed. "Honestly, sweetheart, a hotel? You should have come straight here instead of paying for rooms. I know you have plenty of money, but it's not like you all have expendable amounts of it!"

Hermione grinned at Harry and Malfoy, who both actually did have expendable amounts of money. Harry grinned back, but Malfoy shifted his gaze elsewhere, remaining expressionless.

"Go on now," her mother insisted to the boys impatiently. "You won't be back before dinner otherwise. Your father's making your favorite, darling," her mother directed to her. "Cottage pie."

"Please tell me you haven't been sticking to only English dishes here," Hermione said with a laugh as Harry and Malfoy disappeared down the hallway.

"They say old habit die hard, don't they?" her mother replied, sitting next to her on the bed. "Besides, the local food doesn't sit well with our stomachs. You should have done something about our indigestion when you decided to relocate us to an exotic locale, honey."

* * *

Harry and Malfoy didn't make it back before dinner. Her parents suggested they wait for them to return, but Hermione insisted they go on and eat without them, pointing out that a private dinner was better, seeing as they'd only just reunited.

"They should have been back by now," her mother said, glancing at the clock. "It's been nearly two hours. I hope they didn't get lost!"

"Oh, they probably wasted a lot of time bickering over who's luggage got to be closest to the top in the trunk," Hermione replied, waving her hand dismissively. "It's their own fault that they missed dinner."

"We'll give them leftovers from last night's dinner," her mother said conspiratorially. "They'll never know the difference."

"What was last night, Shepard's Pie?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

"I'm insulted you think our diets so narrow," her father retorted. "It was just some roasted chicken."

"Shepherd's Pie was three nights ago," her mother chuckled.

It was blissful, the three of them laughing and joking about her parents' eating habits, which had always been decidedly lacking in variety.

After dinner, they went back to the sitting room to wait for the boys, passing the time by watching an old movie that starred the Beatles, with whom her mother had been quite obsessed with when she was young.

"Monica Wilkins had excellent taste," her mother said reproachfully after Hermione made a remark about old habits indeed dying hard.

Halfway through the movie, there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," Hermione said, wiggling out from between her parents. As she neared the door, she could see the outlines of the people outside, and there were more than two. It was dark out and hard to tell through the textured glass door, for there was no porch light, but there were definitely more than two people on the front stoop. "Are you expecting visitors tonight?" Hermione asked over her shoulder, pausing before she got to the door.

"No, just your friends, honey," her mother responded, turning around on the couch. "Why?"

Hermione wondered why she could make out for people milling about outside the door. With a bit of apprehension, she reached forward to see who was out there...

…only to nearly fall over from surprise.

"What?" she asked dumbly. "What are you two doing here?"

"They were waiting around in the hotel lobby when we got back," Harry said. "I'd owled them where we'd be staying, just in case Ron had a change of heart."

"Which he did, almost immediately," Ginny said, stepping around Harry into the house. "He'd barely settled in at my place before he started packing a bunch of Harry's clothes because 'there's not enough time to go back home to get mine!'" Ginny said sarcastically as her three companions followed her inside. "Sorry about that, by the way, Harry. Anyway, he didn't even bother asking if it was okay with me before he started attempting to pack for me as well. I barely had time to owl my mother and tell her she would have to take over the responsibility of feeding Crookshanks before Ron shoved me out the door! Long story short, we got the first flight we could, but Ron had to forge a passport first and the layovers were torturously long. We could have used other methods, but I'll admit that I've always wanted to ride an airplane, and you know my dad would never forgive me if I passed up the opportunity."

"Uh huh," Hermione responded, studying Ron's sheepish face.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Ron said earnestly, taking one of her hands. "I'm stupid, you know that. I've never been rational when it came to you, and I acted like a right git. I've felt so guilty these past few weeks, but it's hard you know?" Ron said, his eyes flickering over her shoulder, no doubt to look at Malfoy. "I went berserk when I realized how I'd treated you and how I should have agreed to come down here with you right away. I'm just...I've never felt so bad. I'm so, so sorry." Ron hung his head after he'd finished, his shoulder slumped in shame.

Hermione pulled her hand out of his grasp, and before Ron had finished sighing in defeat she had reached out to hug him.

"I forgive you," she murmured against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. He was a git, but Hermione had always known that. She also knew how hard it was to apologize for being in the wrong about anything. And she knew he had to have been more than sorry to fly down here, seeing as he was still confounded by muggle systems of transportation. More than that, he was her best friend.

She felt Ron sag in relief against her. Hermione started to pull away, but before she could Ron had pulled her back in to kiss her. It was only a peck, but Hermione blushed fiercely afterwards.

"Ron," she warned lowly, though she knew it was no use; everyone in the room had been watching and listening to them closely.

He grinned down at her. "Sorry. Forgive me?"

"Just this once," Hermione sighed, unable to keep from smiling a little. He would always be a git.

"So who's hungry?" her father asked, breaking the slightly awkward silence.

Ron was following her father into the kitchen before anyone else could reply, and he was soon followed by Ginny and Harry. Malfoy, though, hadn't moved from his place next to the door. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and glowering darkly at Hermione.

"What?" she asked reflexively and without thinking.

"You have to ask?" he replied sarcastically.

Hermione didn't. She'd been too surprised by Ron and Ginny's appearance that she hadn't thought about Malfoy's reaction. She knew why Harry and Malfoy had taken so long to get back now, and she was sure Malfoy had played a role by putting on a terrific display of anger when he'd spotted Ron waiting for them at the hotel. He was bound to be in a bad mood.

And that wasn't counting what he probably perceived as her letting Ron off the hook too easily. And that little matter of Ron having kissed her, however innocently, right in front of him.

Well, now that she thought about it, Ron probably had done it on purpose. But still.

_That is so Malfoy_, she thought to herself. How like him to act like this day – which he _knew_ was so important to her – was about his own personal issues. Hermione felt her irritation at him quickly return.

"Not everything's about you, Malfoy," she said before she could stop herself. She instantly regretted her words – even if they were true – when she saw the hurt unmistakably flash across his face before he suddenly pushed himself off the wall and stalked past her towards the kitchen, not bothering to apologize when he bumped into her on the way.

Hermione took a few moments to collect herself, for she was nearly shaking with a mixture of anger and remorse. She didn't have time to work out which feeling was strongest, and she didn't want to. When she looked back on this day, she didn't want to remember letting Malfoy rile her up.

Resolved to simply ignore Malfoy's petulant moodiness for the night, Hermione marched into the kitchen.

* * *

Hermione lay on her side, gazing out her window at the moonlit ocean. The waves were gently lapping at the dock, and Hermione quickly decided she had the best view of anyone ever. She could get used to this.

Her parents had been delighted at the arrival of more of Hermione's friends, not put off in the slightest by the sudden appearance of two Weasleys.

"Ginny can share with Hermione, but one of you boys will have to take the couch, I'm afraid," her father said at one point. To no one's surprise, Malfoy volunteered to take the couch.

Malfoy had been withdrawn for the rest of the evening. Hermione's parents made it a point to include him in conversation, and he was polite enough when he responded to their prompts, but otherwise he didn't say a word. He wouldn't even look at Hermione, a fact that was neither surprising nor unwelcome, the prat.

"There was a terrible row," Ginny had whispered to her as Harry and Ron recounted one of their Quidditch matches to the group. "It nearly came to blows between Ron and Malfoy. I thought the receptionist was going to throw us out. And then Malfoy was saying that he was going to stay at the hotel, but I threatened him good and proper all the way up until he was in the car with us."

"Maybe he should have stayed," Hermione had muttered.

"Did you two have some kind of argument?" Ginny had asked. "Or are you upset at his obvious distaste of Ron being here?"

"Both," Hermione had replied before changing the subject.

Ginny had passed out as soon she had climbed in bed. Remembering her own jet lag and though Hermione wasn't the least bit tired, she'd let her friend sleep.

Hermione still didn't feel tired, and it had been a few hours since Ginny had fallen asleep. With a sigh, Hermione slipped out of bed, silently putting on her shoes and grabbing a sweater before padding out of her room. That dock had been asking her to sit on it since she'd gotten in bed, and seeing as she wasn't sleeping any time soon, she had no reason to ignore it any longer.

The view was even better outside, and Hermione joyously sat on the end of the dock, taking off her shoes and dangling her feet so that her toes just barely skimmed the water. It was probably the most pleasant way to wait around for sleep to come that Hermione could think of. Her parents really had bought themselves a little slice of paradise.

For the first time, Hermione wondered if they would stay in paradise.

She felt her heart rate speed up a little. They had a life here now, and their dental practice. What if they decided to stay and remain the Wilkins' to those who knew them here? Hermione hadn't thought about the possibility of them not coming back with her. But now that she thought about, she realized just how unlikely such an outcome was.

She'd already moved them across the world once. She couldn't ask them to do it again.

_I could stay here,_ she thought desperately, swinging her legs a little. She could open a store for her chain down here and get one of those computers so she could communicate with Anya and her other managers. Her friends had money to visit, and Crookshanks didn't care where he was so long as he was with her.

Hermione sighed. She couldn't let that train of thought continue. It was hard, though, knowing that she'd lost so much time with her parents but resigning to the fact that they probably wouldn't come back to England. She'd been living fairly happily without them for the past few years, even with the weight of knowing they were across the world not knowing she existed. If she could get few that, she could accept the idea of lengthy vacations and long-distance phone calls.

Her thoughts were broken up by the sound of footfalls on the dock behind her, and Hermione jumped to her feet to turn around.

"What do you want?" she asked tonelessly when she spotted who it was.

Malfoy didn't respond. He stopped a few feet away from her, and his gaze was no friendlier than it had been earlier.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked again, this time harshly. "Come to try and ruin my day again? Because I'll knock you off this dock before you get the chance." It was an exaggerated threat, to be fair, but Hermione thought he ought to know how mad she was at him.

"I thought I would give you the opportunity to apologize," Malfoy said after a long moment.

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Apologize for what? Not putting up with your temper on one of the most important days of my life?" Her voice was rising with indignation, but Hermione couldn't seem to tone herself down. "You _knew_ how much this meant to me and you still acted like a selfish, immature child and you expect _me_ to apologize to _you?_"

Malfoy just continued to glare at her.

"I'm not dealing with you tonight, Malfoy. Feel free to dampen my spirits tomorrow, though," she bit out sarcastically, turning back around to glare the water.

"You are _unbelievable_," Malfoy said to her back.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the water. "What? For wanting this day to actually be a happy memory?"

"Not that. Your stupid friend."

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione asked with mock politeness, turning around to face him.

"You forgave him," Malfoy accused, his voice cracking a little. "All because he rambled off an obviously rehearsed apology."

"So what if he rehearsed it?" Hermione said with a humorless laugh. "He was a git, we fought, he gave me the silent treatment, he apologized, I forgave him. That's what friendship is, Malfoy. That's how it's always been with Ron and me."

"So he gets to continuously treat you like shit and you'll forgive him every time because that's just how it's always been?" Malfoy demanded.

"Yes," Hermione retorted stubbornly. "And don't pretend to understand my friendships."

"And your continued forgiveness of him being an asshole," Malfoy continued as if he hadn't hear her, "it has nothing to do with not wanting to lose your fuck buddy, does it?"

Hermione was too shocked to respond for a moment, gaping at him as her anger started to boil over. At the nastily satisfied look that spread across his face at her shock, Hermione seemed to regain the ability to move, and she closed the few feet between them so quickly that he didn't have time to step back before she slapped him with all the strength he could muster.

"How dare you," she snarled, a nasty sort of pleasure shooting through her as his cheek reddened with the imprint of her hand.

Malfoy rubbed the side of his face with a sadistically satisfied gleam in his eyes.

"That is not why I forgive Ron and to suggest such a thing just goes to show how little you really know me, Malfoy," Hermione snapped.

"I was right, wasn't I?" he asked arrogantly, though Hermione caught the flicker of hurt behind his eyes, and she was reminded that Malfoy currently had the mistaken notion that he had feelings for her.

"No," Hermione replied.

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying!" Hermione nearly shouted. "Ron and I don't – we're not like that!"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows skeptically, and Hermione nearly made good on her earlier promise and shoved him in the water. Gods, he was frustrating.

"Anymore," she amended begrudgingly.

"How long since...?" he asked after a pause.

"Months."

"How many?"

Hermione turned away from him. She knew what he wanted to hear – that she hadn't been with Ron since she'd come across Malfoy in her bookstore. She was still mad at him, though, and she wasn't sure whether she should ease his thoughts by telling him the answer he wanted was true or whether she should be a colossal bitch and withhold the information.

"It doesn't matter," she said at last, hating herself a little bit for choosing the latter option.

"It does matter," Malfoy replied.

"It shouldn't. It's none of your business."

"But it does, and it is."

"Why?" Hermione demanded, whirling around.

"You know why."

"Let's pretend I'm stupid, then, if you're so convinced that I know," Hermione snapped at him.

"No," Malfoy said angrily, stepping up to her. "I'm not pretending anything because we both know the reason it matters to me is because I l-"

"You're wrong!" Hermione shouted at him, shoving him away from her. "Whatever it is you think you feel for me, you're wrong, so you should let go of any misconceptions you have now so we can both move on from this."

Malfoy looked as if she'd slapped him again, and Hermione's resolution wavered.

"You've mistaken gratitude for feelings," she said, forcing herself to continue the path she'd chosen. "You're-"

"Don't tell me how I feel, Granger," Malfoy said dangerously.

"-just confused on how to express it," Hermione said mechanically, plowing on. "If you took some time to reflect, you'd come to the same conclusion."

"Stop it," Malfoy nearly shouted. "Stop trying to convince me that I don't understand my own feelings just because you're so repulsed by me!"

"I'm – what?" Hermione asked in confusion.

"You said so yourself! 'This is wrong!' Like I'm so beneath you that the idea of considering me as anything other than charity case disgusts you!" The hurt she had seen hiding behind Malfoy's hostility had come to the surface now, and Hermione realized with a shock that none of this had been about Ron at all.

Hermione felt a sick sensation creep into her stomach._ I can't_, she had said. _This is wrong_. "I didn't," she said hoarsely, choked by remorse. "That's not what I meant."

"Isn't it?" Malfoy was still shouting, though the volume of his voice was negated by the obvious hurt he wore in his expression. The anger was still there, but it was an anger that resulted from pain. "You always said that I was worth something, that I shouldn't believe that everyone thought I was a lost cause, when all along you thought so yourself."

"That's not true!" Hermione said desperately. No wonder he was so hurt, if that's what he thought she had meant. "I only meant the timing wrong!"

"What do you mean?" Malfoy asked, thankfully in a non-shouting voice.

Hermione saw the hope in his eyes, and she felt her mood slide to new depths of terribleness. "It was wrong and selfish for you to kiss me when I was emotionally vulnerable, and it as wrong of me to allow myself to be reckless, and if it hadn't been such horrific timing, I could have dealt with it better."

"Dealt with is?" The hopeful look was disappearing from Malfoy's eyes as he realized where she was going with this. "Granger, don't-"

"Had it been another time, I would have been able to let you down gently instead of running off," Hermione closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of his expression collapsing in misery. "I am sorry for saying what I did, because I can see now that my word choice was questionable."

She kept her eyes closed, waiting for the sound of him storming off. That's what would happen when the full weight of what she had said had hit him. Because that's what happened when you told someone you didn't return their feelings.

When Hermione opened her eyes a couple minutes later, though, he was still there, staring at her.

"You're right," he said quietly. "But you're wrong, too."

Hermione didn't respond as he stepped up to her again.

"You're wrong about how I feel about you, and I'll thank you not to presume to understand my feelings in the future," he said, reaching up tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. "But you were right about the timing. It was bad, and it was selfish to jump the gun like that. Tonight would have been better."

Hermione's heart felt as if it would break through her chest, it was pounding so hard at the look he was giving her as his hand lingered in her hair. This argument had somehow ended up in a completely different place than where it started, and Hermione was wondering if maybe she should have gone ahead and shoved Malfoy off the dock.

She was thinking about how she still could when Malfoy surprised her by bending down to kiss her. It was a short, sweet kiss that she accepted for reasons she wasn't sure of, and it was over before she had the chance to start analyzing how she should react.

"I love you, Hermione," he said softly after he pulled away. He was still close, though, and Hermione was pretty sure the darkness wasn't doing anything to hide the flush in her cheeks. "I know you don't believe it, but I do. And when you come back down from your denial, let me know, will you?"

And then he was turning away from her and walking back towards the house, and Hermione suddenly felt cold.

* * *

**A/N:** I really did think about breaking this up into two modestly-sized chapters, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, because it was just better as it was. And it's kind of one of the most important chapters. From what I understand, readers prefer longer chapters anyway...especially when the author is aggravatingly slow and inconsistent when it comes to updating in a timely fashion.


	19. I've Seen Better

**A/N:** Time for the tense, awkward, transition chapter!

* * *

"Honey, did you sleep at all last night?"

Hermione gazed blearily at her father. "Not really."

She'd been unable to fall asleep when she crept back to her room. _What just happened?_ she had thought, her head spinning. Malfoy had just told her that he loved her. _Draco Malfoy_ had told her he loved her, and Hermione's mind simply could not process the fact. It also had some trouble with her own reaction, which was stand there frozen in shock for a good ten minutes without moving before unceremoniously bursting into tears.

"Too hot?" her mother asked sympathetically.

"What?" Hermione yelped, dropping her breakfast tart. She heard Malfoy chuckle, but she didn't look at him.

"I know I had the hardest time adjusting to the temperature when he got here."

"Uh, yeah," Hermione said slowly, resting her head on her hands. "It was quite warm."

"I was quite comfortable," Malfoy interjected.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut.

"Ron's snoring kept waking me up," Harry said, stifling a yawn.

"The others are probably going to be out for a while. Jet lag, you know," her father said. "They'll probably be out for most of the day."

Hermione, remembering her own jet lag from hell, agreed.

"Well," her mother said brightly, "if you're all feeling up to it, perhaps we could take the boat out for a little bit."

"No!" Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to shriek.

"We thought you might like it, honey," her mother said a little sadly.

"Uh, yeah, no – you're right, I just remembered that I, um...forgot my hairbrush." Hermione cringed inwardly at how pathetic her cover was.

"Hmm," her mother said, eyeing her. "We'll throw plenty of sunscreen on you so you can take a nap on the boat."

"Okay," Hermione said weakly, dropping her head back onto her hands.

The rest of breakfast passed in a bit of a blur. Admittedly, part of this was due to Hermione dozing off a bit while resting her head. The rest was due to the realization that Malfoy was a wicked, wicked man who was purposefully making his presence known by going on a charm offensive with her parents. Whereas he'd been notably withdrawn the previous night, Malfoy was currently leading the morning conversation, spewing compliments, making jokes, and asking clever questions.

By the time the group was ready to head out to the boat, Hermione thought her parents might propose adoption.

"You would think that years later this would get old. It doesn't," her father said as they walked down the dock. It was a gorgeous day, which meant the scenery was doubly breathtaking. Hermione, though, merely found it troubling now.

"It's quite romantic, isn't it?" her mother added.

Hermione forced a smile, refusing to look at Malfoy, who responded with a thoroughly wicked comment.

"Probably even more so at night."

She ought to hit him.

Malfoy was goading her on purpose, she knew. She wasn't sure what he was trying to do by intentionally unsettling her – not that she was going to ask.

Now he was purposefully standing entirely too close to her on the end of the dock as her parents readied the boat. "Nice view," he said lightly.

"I've seen better," Hermione snapped, taking care to keep her voice down. Harry was still stifling yawns and not paying any attention, but she'd rather not raise his suspicion.

"Alright, in we go!" her mother chimed.

Harry, tired as he was, managed to climb into the boat with little stumbling. Hermione had a bit more trouble, but she slapped Malfoy's hand away when he went to help her. It was childish and spiteful, but she was too tired to bring herself to care much.

Hermione resolutely sat on the bench in between Harry and the side of the boat. It felt silly, but in a satisfying way, when Malfoy failed to hide his dissatisfaction over her choice of seat. _I showed him, _she thought to herself sarcastically as he took the space on the other side of Harry, mocking herself so she wouldn't feel so bad about acting like a brat.

Once they got going, Hermione started to relax a bit. The sun was pleasantly warm on her skin, and the breeze was just enough to prevent the heat from becoming too much. She was just starting to lean her head back and allow herself to doze off when her father ruined everything.

"Harry, why don't you take the wheel for a bit?" her father suggested.

"Thanks, Mr. Granger," Harry replied eagerly, suddenly becoming much more awake as he hopped off the bench. Hermione had barely begun steaming in irritation when Malfoy slid over to sit in Harry's vacated spot. She turned her head away, glaring at the water. _Thanks, dad_.

Thankfully, Malfoy seemed to be done pressing her buttons, at least for the time being. He didn't say anything to her, and Hermione started to relax again once he became absorbed in conversation with her mother.

Maybe he really was done intentionally trying to frustrate her. Maybe he hadn't even been that bad about it and she'd just overreacted. Maybe he'd realize she was right and then pretend nothing had happened. _Maybe, _she thought as her head lolled with exhaustion,_ it'll go back to normal_.

* * *

Hermione stirred awake, cracking her eyes open slowly. She was still on the boat, but it was immobile and tied back to the dock. The sun was lower in the sky than it had been, and Hermione wondered how long she'd been asleep. Everyone was gone from the boat except for her and Harry, on whose shoulder her head was resting on.

...Except, she realized slowly, Harry hadn't been the one sitting next to her when she'd fallen asleep.

She jerked her head up, her body inching away from Malfoy during the movement. He didn't respond to her violent reaction, just watched her steadily.

Just her and Malfoy. On the boat. _No, no, no, this is not happening! _Hermione made a show of looking around to mask her intense desire to flee. "What time is it?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Not sure. You were asleep for a couple hours."

"Why didn't anyone wake me when we got back?"

He shrugged again. "I guess they thought you needed the sleep."

"Oh." Hermione jumped to her feet. She hesitated for a brief moment before stepping to exit the boat.

"Wait," Malfoy said, standing up to block her way.

"What?" she asked, her stomach sinking in trepidation.

"Can we talk?"

There it was. Hermione felt her body sag as soon as the words were out of his mouth. So much for pretending like nothing had happened. "About what?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You know what."

"I'm not doing this again," Hermione warned, moving to step around him.

"Why?" he demanded, blocking her path again.

"Because I don't want to."

"That doesn't mean you shouldn't."

"Yeah, actually, it does," Hermione retorted, feeling the anger rise inside her. "So get out of my way, if you don't mind."

He shook his head. "No."

"Get out of my way before I make you get out of my way," Hermione snapped, narrowing her eyes.

"Why are you so determined to avoid this?"

"There's is no 'this,' Malfoy."

"We_ need_ to ta-"

"No, Malfoy, we don't." Hermione knew she was letting her anger get the best of her, but she wasn't sure being nice would get through to him, so she let the last of her guards down and gave anger free reign. "I didn't come here for you, okay? I came here because you all but forced me, yeah, but that doesn't mean this trip is about you. I came here to get my parents back, and you know how much that means to me, and yet you seem determined to make it all about _you. _And all that tells me is that maybe you haven't changed as much as I thought you had and that you're just the same selfish boy that you always were."

Malfoy's eyes flashed with hurt, disbelief, and anger.

"For all I know, you planned this whole trip with the intention of using it to make a move on you didn't, I don't know, but I do know that that's how you've been acting.I don't know what made you think it was acceptable to do so, but I've had enough. So you take your stupid talks and all your delusions about whatever feelings you may have for me and shove them up your ass, because I'm done."

Without waiting for a reply and wanting to avoid seeing the effects of her harsh words, Hermione put her head down and brushed past him, tripping out of the boat and nearly running down the dock. Her eyes prickled with tears of anger, shame, and remorse. She knew it was better for both their sakes for her to be cruel, but that didn't make her feel less guilty.

Ginny wasn't asleep anymore, and Hermione nearly sobbed with relief as she slammed her door shut and threw herself onto her bed. She hadn't seen anyone on her way up to her room, and she hoped that wherever they were in the house they hadn't heard her come in through the back door and run up the stairs.

Hermione buried her face into a pillow. She'd said harsh things to Malfoy in the past, but they somehow paled in comparison to this. Delusional feelings were, though delusional, still able to be hurt, and Hermione now wondered if she had gone too far. She could only hope that by doing so she might have at least opened his eyes a little to the truth, that he didn't _really _love her after all. Hermione felt an inexplicable pang of sadness at the thought, followed by a brief bout of severe anxiety as the possibility of Malfoy not being delusional fluttered into her mind.

She pushed the thought out as quickly as she could. Hermione pushed herself into a sitting position, wiping the last of her tears from her face. She couldn't stay up in her room for the rest of the day, tempting as the thought was. But she needed a few minutes to collect herself, which included steeling herself for having to face Malfoy.

With one last shake of her head, Hermione stood up and set off to find the others. They were in the family room as she expected (it was the biggest room in the house), Malfoy included. Judging by his position in the far corner of the room, he'd reverted back to being curt and withdrawn.

"Oh, good," her mother said when she spotted her. "Your father and I were hoping you'd be up before dinner. We have something we need to discuss with you, if you have a minute."

"Yeah, sure," Hermione replied. Malfoy hadn't looked at her when she'd entered the room, and her remorse rose another level.

She followed her parents into the kitchen. They cheerfully gestured for her to sit with them at the table, but the sad lilt to their smiles gave them away, and Hermione had a feeling her instincts were about to score a win. A win she hadn't wanted.

"Hermione, we need to talk about moving back to England..."

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Hermione wiped a stray tear before looking over her shoulder. She'd heard him approaching, but she felt too emotionally exhausted to try and avoid him.

Malfoy sat down on the sand next to her, sighing when she didn't respond. "About everything."

Hermione wiggled her toes in the sand for a moment. She could launch into an extended lecture on just how sorry he should be, but she truly had had enough dramatics.

"Okay," she said, keeping her eyes on the water. She sensed him flinch in annoyance that she hadn't said anything about forgiving him. "I mean, it's okay," she added. "I'm sorry, too."

There was a long pause where they sat there staring out at the water.

"Your parents aren't going back, are they?" he asked quietly after a few minutes had passed.

Hermione felt her eyes welling up again. "No," she answered. "They're not going back." After they'd told her of their desire to stay in Australia, Hermione had put on a brave front and pretended to not be saddened by their decision. She'd fake-smiled her way through the rest of the day, until finally she'd needed to let it all out. She'd ended up outside again once everyone had decided to go to bed for the night. Hermione had sat down on the small beach in the backyard and cried all the way until a few minutes before Malfoy had come out.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, sounding sincere.

Hermione sniffed. God, she was sick of crying. "It was expected."

"Didn't you ask them to go back with you?"

"No. I couldn't. I already feel guilty enough about moving them once," Hermione said. "And they always wanted to retire somewhere exotic. This way they don't have to move again."

Another long pause. "Are you okay?" he asked hesitantly.

_No. _"Yes."

Malfoy sighed, and Hermione thought it sounded a little irritated, though she couldn't think of why. She thought about asking, but Malfoy had already stood up to walk away before she got the chance.

* * *

The rest of the trip was uneventful, save for Hermione's tearful goodbye with her parents. Hermione made sure to remind herself that she'd gotten back more than she was losing, but the disappointment of their decision to stay was still fresh and painful. It didn't help that she still felt uneasy around Malfoy, who had seemed more susceptible to mood swings than he'd been in weeks. Hermione had felt a sense of relief when Harry had sat between them on the planes back to England.

After all that had happened while she'd been away, Hermione only felt a dull frustration that by the time she got back to her apartment, everything felt different.

Some things were _good_ different. When Hermione unloaded a bag that contained a few key items from her old room, her flat automatically felt brighter. And when she stuck her parents' address up on her refrigerator, Hermione felt such overwhelming relief that she forgot to be sad for a few minutes. She no longer felt guilt when she caught sight of the photographs she'd already had that contained her parents. Though the weight of their absence pressed on her, the burden of not knowing them anymore had lifted.

But at the same time, Hermione felt an unease she hadn't felt in months when Malfoy crossed her mind. Though this time it was personal.

* * *

**A/N:** So yep, moving onto the next stage of the friendship/relationship. Had to get through the awkward, everyone-acts-a-bit-silly stuff first. But that's over (thank god), so the fun (at least for me) can now commence.


	20. Please Don't Ignore Me Anymore

**A/N:** Birthday update!

* * *

"Or you can ignore me. That's fine."

Malfoy, once again, pretended not to hear her.

"I'm sorry. I was under the impression that it was common courtesy to answer when someone asks you a question."

Still no response.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the back of his head. All she'd wanted to know is why he'd locked her cat in the bathroom, but he'd been ignoring her under the pretense of being overly focused on his video game.

"Malfoy."

Nothing.

With an irritated 'Hmph!' Hermione marched over and yanked the plug for the console out of the outlet.

"Hey!" Malfoy exclaimed. "I was about to win!"

"What is your_ problem?_"

"You, apparently."

"I only did it because you were ignoring me."

"It was a critical point in the game."

"More critical than locking Crookshanks in the bathroom_ the entire time I was at work_?"

Malfoy glanced over at the cat, who had been glowering at the blond from atop the refrigerator since Hermione had let him out of his prison. "He was bothering me."

"You can't just lock other people's pets away like that! God, what is wrong with you?"

"What is wrong with me? How original!" he exploded, causing Hermione to take a reflexive step back. "Of course there's got to be something wrong with me, doesn't there?"

"What? No, that's not what I-"

"Can't you ever shut up for just a minute? Jesus, Granger!"

"Don't tell me to shut up!" Hermione shouted back at him, quickly rising to meet his anger. Ever since they'd gotten back, Malfoy had been outrageously quick to anger over trivial matters that always led to shouting matches. It pissed Hermione off almost as much as his cold, detached manner whenever he wasn't picking fights.

"Then don't be so fucking quick to assume that everything is my fault!"

"This _is_ your fault, you half-wit!"

"Oh, so now I'm stupid?"

"You're sure acting that way!"

"How else do you expect me to react to such a colossal bitch?"

"I'm done with this," Hermione seethed, stomping around him towards her room. "Feel free to let yourself out," she snarled over her shoulder before slamming her bedroom door shut.

Hermione angrily turned the lock, glaring at her door as her body simmered in fury. He really was just the world's biggest ass these days, and Hermione knew he was just acting out because of how she'd treated him. He had apologized, though, so she wasn't sure why. All she knew was that he was taking everything out on her, and so these fights had become so frequent that happened every couple of days. And they all seemed to result in Hermione locking herself in her room.

Hermione watched the doorknob rattle but didn't move to unlock it. She never did.

"Look, I'm sorry." Malfoy's apology was muffled through the door, but she could hear his heavy sigh.

Hermione heard the thump of him leaning against her door as he uselessly tried to open it again.

"You know I didn't mean it, Granger. Just open the door."

"No," she replied. "I'd rather not be around you anymore."

"I'm sorry, alright?" he pleaded. "Please open the door?"

Hermione sighed. She knew she shouldn't let the cycle continue, but she also hated being mad at him so much.

With that in mind, Hermione quickly unlocked the door. As she opened the door, Hermione only got a brief look at Malfoy's stricken face before he'd reached out and pulled her into a desperate hug.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

"It's okay," Hermione said, wrapping her arms around him. She wasn't solving anything by forgiving him, she knew, but...

He held her a little closer, his breath tickling her ear.

But this was better than staying mad.

* * *

"Typical! You can't admit you're wrong, so you run off!"

Hermione slammed the door in his face, just beating him to her room. "Go away!" she screamed through the door.

"Maybe I will!"

"Maybe you should!" she shouted, her fists clenching and unclenching.

There was a long moment of silence before he tried to open the door. "I wish you wouldn't lock me out," he said through the door.

"I wish you weren't such an ass," she retorted.

"I know," he said with a sigh. "I'm sorry."

She opened the door, but only a crack. "You can't keep doing this."

He wedged the door all the way open with his elbow. "I know."

She stepped back when he reached out to her. "I mean it."

He stepped forward to negate her movement. "I know."

"Saying the words isn't enough, Malfoy."

He looked down at her, his face nothing but apologetic. "I know," he said again, and this time Hermione didn't step away from him when he reached for her.

* * *

"Get out!"

"Watch me!"

* * *

"Dammit, Granger, stop locking me out!"

* * *

"Don't touch me!" Hermione yanked her arm out of his grasp, darting for her room.

"Stop running away from me!" he shouted, grabbing her by the wrist and spinning her around.

"I'll run wherever I damn well please!" she screamed, shoving at him with her free arm. "Let me go!"

* * *

Hermione pressed her face agains his chest, wondering if she was a bad person for starting to want the fights because of the end result.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not."

* * *

"You're being irrational."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child!"

"Then stop acting like one!"

* * *

"Your apologies are meaningless!"

* * *

"So you're going to just pretend that all didn't happen?"

Malfoy had leapt to his feet the second Ron had Flooed out and started criticizing Hermione for accepting Ron's invitation to Harry's birthday with the Weasleys. The invitation hadn't included Malfoy.

"What do you want me to say, Malfoy? You don't even like Ron or his family!"

"It's the principle of the matter. I was sitting right here."

"So what, you wanted a pity invite?" as soon as the sarcastic words left her mouth she knew she'd said just the wrong thing.

"Because that's who I am, isn't it?" he raged. "I'm Draco Malfoy, everyone's favorite pitiful loser."

"I am_ not_ doing this today," Hermione seethed, standing up.

"Don't you dare," he snarled, moving to block her path to her bedroom.

"Oh, I dare," Hermione spat as she shoved him away from her. "Get out of my apartment."

"If you lock yourself in there again," he said dangerously, successfully restraining her with a firm grip on her upper arm. "I swear I'll-"

"You'll what?" she demanded, trying to pull free of him. "Spew out a bunch of fake apologies so we can do this all again tomorrow? Thanks, but no thanks."

"Just admit that I'm right, and it'll be done."

"Admit you're right about what, exactly?"

"You pity me."

Hermione gaped at him. "I do not!"

"You're lying!" he yelled, now gripping both of her arms.

"No I'm-"

"God, do you think I'm stupid, too?" he thundered. "If you didn't think me so pitiful you wouldn't shut me out. It doesn't take a genius."

"I shut you out because I don't like you yelling in my face," she snapped, glaring up at him.

"Do you miss your parents?" he asked suddenly.

"What? Yes, of course I do!"

"And you're sad they didn't come back?"

"Of course-"

"But you're okay with it?"

Hermione blinked. What? "I told you, I'm fine-"

"You lied," he accused, his hands squeezing her arms. "I saw you crying that night, and you lied when I asked if you were okay."

Hermione flushed. She _had_ lied.

"Why?" he demanded.

"I don't actually like being caught in weak moments," she hedged, her mind racing to come up with an acceptable answer.

"Right," he snorted. "More like you're embarrassed to be seen as weak by someone you like feeling stronger than."

Her skin seemed to burn where he gripped her as she felt the color drain from her face. It was a horrible accusation, and if he hadn't been holding her arms in a death grip she would have chosen that moment to slam her bedroom door against his face.

Because, she realized with a terrible pang of guilty horror, he was right.

She could lie again. But his eyes were blazing down at her, and she could see how much she was hurting him by being untruthful.

"I didn't mean to," she admitted finally.

She a look of triumph flick across his expression before it fell back to a sort of melancholic anger.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry."

It was the first time she'd been the one to apologize first. When she opened her eyes, his expression had shifted, and he was looking at her with a fierce gleam in his eyes that suddenly made her very conscious of how close they were standing and how his hands no longer seemed to be gripping her out of anger.

She stepped away quickly. "I'm sorry," she said again, before finally fleeing to her room.

* * *

"Don't," she warned, but it was too late.

"Let me guess, everyone sat around and had a good laugh at my expense?"

"No!"

Malfoy dropped the fruitcake Mrs. Weasley had made Hermione bring back for him on the table. "Very convincing. Another try?"

"We hardly even talked about you," she said, immediately wanting to stick her foot in her mouth.

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"All I meant was that they asked how you were and I said fine and that was it," Hermione said quickly.

"That's it?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, that's it," Hermione said with a sigh. "You shouldn't be so quick to assume the worst."

"It's hard not to when I have such a high success rate."

"Don't be like that."

"Like what? Honest?"

"Pessimistic."

"Funny how often the two seem to coincide for me."

"And who's pitying you now? Because it sounds like it's yourself," Hermione said, a tad more aggressively than she meant to.

Malfoy's eyes flashed. "Don't turn that on me."

"Why? You're so quick to call everyone else out on it, why exclude yourself? Are you really that big of a hypocrite?"

"No," he growled, turning his back to her and making towards her apartment door. "You're going too far, Granger, and I'm not in the mood for it."

Hermione bristled. "Facts are stubborn things, aren't they?"

"And yet only half as stubborn as you," he snapped back, one hand on the doorknob.

"No!" Hermione pleaded, realizing what she'd done. She rushed forward, ducking around him to shut the door just as he opened it. "I'm sorry," she said, leaning against the door.

He glared down at her. "No you're not."

"I am!" Hermione insisted, lowering his outstretched arm with a firm hand. "I did'n mean it, I was angry, and...I'm sorry, okay?"

Malfoy turned his face away from her, but his expression had softened a bit.

"Forgive me?" she asked, tugging on his arm.

He sighed, accepting her invitation and enveloping her in his arms. "Yeah, I forgive you."

* * *

"I'm only saying you should think about it," Hermione said carefully.

"I have. The answer is no," Malfoy retorted.

Hermione folded her hands in front of her. "You haven't. You rejected the invitation before you'd finished reading the letter."

"Because I _don't want to go_."

"It's just that...you know it would mean a lot to your mother."

Malfoy threw her a glare but didn't say anything.

Hermione took a deep, bracing breath. The air had thickened with tension the minute Malfoy had waked in, throwing a letter from his mother at Hermione. The letter included a invitation to a garden party. Malfoy had immediately stated his intention to not attend, warning Hermione that if she tried to convince him to go he'd throw her cat out the window.

"Fine," he snapped after a moment. "I'll think about it."

"Okay," Hermione said with relief.

"But if I go, you're going with me."

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm not."

"Then I'm not going."

Hermione pushed away from the table, standing up with a sigh. "Fine, don't go, whatever. I don't care."

"Yeah. I won't."

"Fine."

"Good."

"Okay."

"Right."

Hermione eyed him suspiciously.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows.

She sat back down cautiously. The would-be argument was settled, but she didn't feel any less tense.

* * *

"What did you do with the remote?"

"Nothing."

"Did you take it?"

"No. But I do live here, so I would be entitled to take it if I wanted to."

"Very funny, Granger. Where is it?"

"Maybe you misplaced it."

"Are you saying I'm forgetful?"

"No, I'm saying you were still holding it when you went to get some water. Isn't that it over there by the sink?"

"Yeah. Okay. My mistake."

* * *

They weren't fighting anymore, but there was a tension that made Hermione crazy. It was as if they were always on the brink of fighting...or something else. All Hermione knew was that it was becoming unbearable, and whatever it was that needed to happen to end it needed to happen soon or she'd lose her mind.

* * *

"I'm not having this fight again, Malfoy!" she screamed, though secretly she was relieved that the tension had finally boiled over. They were standing across from each other behind the couch, shouting their heads off at each other so passionately that Crookshanks had hid in a closet.

"You're the one who brought it up!"

"I did no such thing, and for you to imply-"

"'Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Malfoy,'" he said in a mocking, sing-song voice. "You started it! All I did was point out your hypocrisy?"

"Hypocrisy? _Me?_" Hermione laughed humorlessly. "I'm not the one who balks at anyone feeling sorry for me only to bitch and moan about no one liking me ten seconds later!"

"I'm not going to listen to you preach to me about not feeling sorry for myself when you _still_ insist on treating me like charity case!"

"I do not treat you like a charity case!"

"You spend every day feeling sorry for me. Just admit it."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"No, what I'd like is for you to start seeing me as a real person!"

"I do-"

"No you _don't_!" he thundered. "All you do is walk on eggshells around me because you're so afraid of setting me off!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It doesn't take much, does it?"

He ignored her. "And you'll just not talk about thinks because you're afraid I'll get mad at you for it, or that you'll hurt my feelings, or whatever else you think will happen. You wouldn't do that to someone you thought of as your equal!"

"I don't avoid things!"

"You ignore _everything!_" he yelled, one hand going up to twist his hair in frustration. He turned on his heel, taking a few steps away from her before turning back around.

Hermione stepped back reflexively in shock as he continued towards her, his eyes blazing. The next thing she knew, he had her in his arms and he was kissing her.

Hermione felt like she should pull away, push his arms off her and banish him from her apartment for good. Malfoy slid a hand up around her neck, the other arm wrapped firmly around her waist. Within seconds, that initial feeling was overtaken by another, stronger one that was telling her that _this_ was what had been building between them.

_This_ was what needed to happen.

Malfoy pulled back just enough, but only just barely. "Whatever you do, Granger, please don't ignore me anymore."

Hermione's breathing was so ragged – partially due to Malfoy and partially due to her own shaking in reaction the decision she had made – that she was afraid to speak. Instead, she tilted her mouth up to his, kissing him slowly. Her hands were fisted in the fabric of his shirt, and she felt him tense in surprise. It only lasted a moment before he responded heatedly, pushing her back a few steps until her back hit the wall.

She twined her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Malfoy's hands were running down her sides, coming to rest at her hips. Hermione pressed against him, her body demanding that there be no space left between them. She tangled one of her hands in his hair as he explored her mouth with his tongue, and she couldn't suppress a moan when one of his hands crept under the hem of her shirt.

The cautious part of her brain was warning her to stop, that she was in danger of letting things get out of control, but Hermione pushed the thought away before it could fully formulate. This wasn't the time for caution. Caution wasn't going to solve the heat that had been brewing in recent weeks.

Hermione started to make a noise of protest when he leaned away from her, but she was silenced when she realized it was because he was reaching for her bedroom door.

And then Malfoy was pushing her onto her bed, crawling up her body as she pulled his head back down, the brief break in contact having been too long for her liking. His body covered hers with an exquisite heaviness, but she made no move to stop him when he flipped her over top of him, pushing them up so that he was in a sitting position and she straddled his legs. She had guessed the motivation behind the move, and Hermione happily held her arms up as he slid her shirt up and over head. She found his lips again as his hands ran along her bare back, stopping to unclasp her bra. Hermione shrugged the garment off, tossing it aside to tug off his shirt, pushing him back down once the task was finished. Malfoy kissed her hungrily as he rolled back on top of her, and Hermione arched her body against his as he pushed her pants down.

Once there was no more clothing separating them, Malfoy bent his head to whisper a question in her ear.

"Yes," Hermione breathed.

Malfoy pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. In one swift movement he brought them together, and Hermione let herself be swept away in him.

* * *

**A/N:** ...and now there won't be any more subtle "get things moving along!" comments. Cool cool cool (/abed). Naturally, the hurdles are not over yet, my friends. IS Hermione done being insensitive? WILL Malfoy turn into a lovesick puppy? HOW will Hermione over-analyze things? And WHAT will happen to these crazy kids next?

Your guess is as good as mine. Well, maybe not as good. But you can pretend it is.


	21. Please Don't Say I Told You So

**A/N: **I know, I know. I don't update regularly. If I could, I would. Luckily, a 15 hour car trip back from a trip to visit grad schools up north resulted in the sudden end to the most recent bout of writer's block. See? Boredom can be productive!

* * *

There was a slight possibility that Hermione had made a small mistake.

No, that was wrong. There wasn't a slight possibility. There was a very uncomfortable reality that Hermione had made a huge mistake.

She absentmindedly stroked Crookshanks, who had curled up on her lap when she sat down for her morning coffee, her hair still damp from her shower. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes off her bedroom door, behind which Malfoy still slept. Hermione's eyes flicked over to the clock by the oven. He probably wouldn't be asleep for much longer, which meant Hermione didn't have long to figure out how the hell she was going to deal with what had happened the night before.

Hermione had briefly considered taking the cowardly route and leaving her apartment to put it off as long as possible, but she'd rejected the idea almost as soon as it had popped into her head. Running away was the easiest route to take, because all it required was the quick acceptance of having made a mistake followed by taking equally quick action.

And Hermione had already made the acceptance that would lead to the action.

For, though it had never crossed her mind the night before, she'd realized quickly after she'd woken up that last night had meant something different for Malfoy than it had for her. Because though he'd apologized for his actions in Australia, he'd never taken back anything he'd said.

Including telling her that he loved her.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. Last night had been physical for her, but it had been emotional for Malfoy, and having realized that had caused Hermione's stomach to start twisting into uncomfortable knots.

She had been on his side of this before. When her and Ron's almost-relationship had started to flame out, it hadn't been clear at first that their relationship had devolved into something more physical for Ron while it remained more emotional for Hermione. The first night she'd denied him after she'd realized that their relationship wasn't going where she wanted it to, an unspoken agreement had passed between them, and they soon found themselves back in friendship mode, with Hermione patiently waiting for Ron to make up his mind.

But that had been a different situation. Hermione and Ron had been friends for years, and more than friends for a few of them. With Malfoy, there was only a recent friendship and no relationship beyond that, not even an almost-one. Hermione couldn't decide which was worse.

And now she had to decide was how she was going to handle the situation. Hermione felt her stomach twist again, for she didn't think there was any way this would end peacefully. She had known how he felt (or how he thought he felt) about her, and he knew that she knew. More than likely, he was going to accuse her of having taken advantage of him.

Hermione agonized over the thought for another quarter of an hour, when her bedroom door creaked open and a sleepy Malfoy wandered out.

When he caught sight of her, he visibly stiffened. Hermione realized too late that she'd still been frowning.

"Hey," he said carefully.

"Hey," she replied faintly, wishing beyond all reason that she was the kind of girl who didn't analyze things endlessly. Malfoy had emerged from her room only half-dressed, having only pulled on his pants from the day before. The sight of him brought her back to the night before, when she'd been flying so high she'd never wanted to come down.

But tousled hair and bare torsos weren't enough to shut her logic off, and Hermione – for a brief moment – bitterly resented the fact that she was and always would be the type of girl who followed her head.

Malfoy took a few steps towards where she was sitting, not taking his eyes off her. He stopped when Hermione averted her eyes.

"So we should probably talk," she said, focusing her eyes on the oven.

"Probably." Malfoy sat down across from her, at which point Crookshanks crawled off Hermione's lap and made his way to his spot on top of the refrigerator.

Hermione was only able to glance back at him for a moment before averting her eyes again. "I think last night was a mistake," she rushed, forcing herself to say it before fear made her back out.

She saw Malfoy lean back in his chair out of the corner of her eye. She risked a glance back to him, and his expression was like a punch in the gut, a reminder that her actions would only result in hurt. "A mistake?"

"I'm sorry if I led you on, but I shouldn't have let things go as far as they did. It was wrong of me."

"What do you mean?"

Hermione forced herself to continue. "I was so wrapped up in the tension from our argument, I wasn't thinking straight, and I let it get the better of me-"

"So you used me," Malfoy cut her off, his voice so cold Hermione felt chills.

"I didn't mean to do any such thing, but I have to be honest because I don't want to damage our friendship-"

"Friendship?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes-"

"Save it, Granger." Malfoy shoved away from the table so violently that Hermione sprung to her feet in surprise. "I'm sick of your bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

Malfoy took an angry step towards her around the table. "After last night, are you really going to stand there and tell me that the only thing between us _friendship? _That all you care about is being friends?"

"But that's-"

"Are you not getting this?" Though he exuded nothing but anger, there was a definite strain of pain in his voice. "I _can't _be friends with you!"

Hermione took a step back as she shook her head. "Stop, just – god, this is all my fault!"

"Do you not understand how hard it is to be in love with someone and constantly hear them go on and on about how much they want to be_ friends_ with you? It is miserable. _Miserable_. And I can't do it anymore."

"Don't say that!"

"You can't say you don't feel anything for me, because you obviously feel something."

"I-"

"You can deny it all you want but you and I both know you do."

"Don't assume you know how I feel!"

"What other option do I have but to assume?" Malfoy shouted. "If you don't want me to assume then stop being such a coward and tell me!"

"I don't know!" Hermione shouted.

"You – you don't know?" Malfoy asked in confusion, taken aback.

Hermione dropped her face into her hands. She had given an honest answer on reflex, and she already wondered if she had made a mistake in not keeping her cool.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, dropping her hands. "I just don't know."

"Whatever," Malfoy said disgustedly. "I'm not interested in your games. I'm done with this," he spat before storming towards the front door.

"Malfoy, wait," Hermione begged, reaching out to grab his arm. "Look, I'm sorry-"

He pulled his arm out of her grasp, glaring down at her. "You are _unbelievable_."

"I'm sorry," Hermione begged, tears welling her eyes at his fiery gaze.

The anger receded from his eyes for a moment, as if he were tempted to accept her apology. But just as Hermione felt the hope flare inside of her, his steely glare was back.

"Good for you," he bit out sarcastically, and without another glance at her he wrenched open her front door and slammed it behind him.

* * *

"You're being unreasonable. He's not the same gross addict that came begging for your help all those months ago anymore, Hermione," Ginny said seriously. "He's not broken."

"But he was, very much so. He might still be!"

Hermione had spent an entire week stewing in misery before she had cracked and fled to Harry and Ginny's place, where the redhead was mercifully alone. Hermione had spilled everything to Ginny, desperate for consolation. Ginny, however, was not telling Hermione what she wanted to hear (that she had been right) but was successfully making her feel even worse.

Feeling worse was something Hermione hadn't thought possible. She felt positively disgusted with herself for leading Malfoy. She also felt a an absurd amount of guilt over how confused and indecisive she had felt after Malfoy had left her flat. The way Hermione had dealt with the entire "morning after" situation had been a disaster, but Hermione felt that she deserved the hurtful words Malfoy had thrown after her. She had acted selfishly and gotten a fitting comeuppance.

Now the question was how to go forward. Malfoy hadn't come by all week, and the letter she'd sent a few days after the fight had been returned yesterday unopened. This had effectively caused Hermione to break down and seek out Ginny.

"Is he the same?" Ginny asked with honest curiosity. "I mean, is he not different?"

"He is, but that doesn't mean-"

"Then what's the issue here? If he's not a sick loony anymore than what's the problem?"

"Because – because," Hermione stammered. "If he's not still the Malfoy who needs my help, if he's just a normal person, what if he's just the same Malfoy from Hogwarts?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You'll stop at nothing to find an escape route, will you?"

"Huh?"

"Can you honestly tell me that Malfoy – who is not a pitiful loser in need of your charity anymore – is the same as he was back in school?"

Hermione looked at her feet. "I don't think so."

"Then we're back to the same question: what's the issue?"

Hermione rubbed her temples but didn't answer.

"Please don't tell me this is about my brother," Ginny said suddenly, not hiding the exasperation in her voice.

"What? No, of course it isn't," Hermione said with honest surprise, snapping her head up.

"Because I know you were still hoping to turn things around with him," Ginny continued.

"I was, but I'm not anymore. I haven't hoped for that since..."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Since Malfoy?"

Hermione thought back. The redhead was right – not that it meant anything, of course. "Since about then, yeah, I guess."

"Now that _that's_ cleared up, I'm going to ask one more time. Keeping in mind the fact that you're obviously attracted to him-"

"I-"

"Don't even start denying it, Hermione. You wouldn't have slept with him if you weren't," Ginny said slowly, as if Hermione was stupid. "Now, once more: what's the bloody issue?"

"No matter what you say, he isn't back to normal. He's still damaged, and I don't need that," Hermione said simply, smoothing down the front of her shirt to hide the fact that her hands were shaking with the effort to appear nonchalant.

Ginny sighed in exasperation. "After all that happened when we were growing up, we're all damaged."

Hermione shook her head. "No. Not in the same way, at least."

"Listen to me for a minute, Hermione, because I know where you're coming from. I went through this with Harry."

"Harry was different."

"You think Harry wasn't traumatized after-"

"I know he was, Ginny, and for you to suggest that I don't is insulting considering I was with him the entire time," Hermione snapped. "You can't say that – not even Ron can!"

Ginny stepped back, hurt flashing briefly in her eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry," Hermione sighed. "I didn't mean to say that I know Harry better than you and Ron, but you're missing the point. We all dealt with what happened. We dealt with it and we got through it. Malfoy didn't."

"Just because he's weak-"

"He is _not _weak!" Hermione bristled again.

Ginny gave her a smug look. Clearly, Hermione's defensiveness was being interpreted in a way it wasn't meant to be by the youngest Weasley. "He's not anymore," she said.

"Not being weak doesn't equate to an ability to cope with one's demons."

"But he has now," Ginny responded quickly.

"How could you possibly know that he has?"

"How could you possibly know that he hasn't?"

"Well, I spend a great deal more time with him than you."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And so how do you know that hasn't dealt with his issues?"

"We've been through this, Ginny. I know him."

"Yet you still haven't given a satisfactory answer, which is a bit unusual for you."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the playful jab. "I resent that."

"And_ I _resent _you _still not giving an answer!" Ginny said in a sing-song voice.

"His attachment to me," Hermione offered. "He's mistaken gratitude for romantic feelings because he lacks the capacity to separate the two emotions."

Ginny blinked at her. "So what's your excuse?"

"My what?" Hermione asked, confused.

"What's your excuse for _your_ attachment to _him_?"

"I consider him a friend," Hermione said firmly.

"That you're attracted to," Ginny said with a nod. "Right."

Hermione felt like strangling her friend for a moment out of frustration that their conversation seemed to be covering the same things over and over. She opened her mouth to retort, but Ginny cut her off before she could start.

"So where are we then? Okay, so Malfoy has admitted to being in love you. You told him he was delusional. You both acted like pricks to each other and many arguments ensued. You kind of make up and stop fighting for a while, before a monumental argument results in the two of you in bed together. You told him it meant nothing, he told you to rot in hell. Did I miss anything?"

"No," Hermione answered miserably. "Well, there was the bit where I said I didn't know how I felt about him."

Ginny winced. "No wonder he was upset."

"It was honest."

"Still," Ginny said with a shake of her head. "That's rough."

"I know."

"And you should have brought that up earlier," Ginny said with a glare.

Hermione shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" Ginny nearly yelled, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. "If you aren't absolutely positive that the only thing you feel for him is friendship then you ought to consider giving him a chance."

"And this is why I didn't mention it earlier. It doesn't matter if I don't know how I feel about him because he's-"

"No. Stop," Ginny cut her off. "You need to talk to him about this."

"I don't think he wants to talk," Hermione insisted. "He didn't hear what he wanted to, so he bailed. And that's what would happen if I tried to talk to him again: if he didn't get the answer he wanted off the bat, he'd leave."

"Look, you may be right. But you won't know unless you try."

Hermione sighed. "Fine. I'll think about it."

* * *

Hermione knocked on the door, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

It had been almost two weeks since Malfoy had stormed out of her flat, and after not getting any responses to the letters she'd sent him after seeing Ginny asking to talk, she had finally made the trek down to the house he shared with Addison.

Addison opened the door after a few moments, and Hermione instantly noted his face drop when he saw her.

"He's not here," Addison said awkwardly before Hermione could ask.

"Where is he? I know he's not at his mother's place," Hermione demanded. She'd sent a note to Narcissa, but the Malfoy matriarch hadn't heard anything from her son all week.

"I don't know." Addison scratched his neck, one of his hands still on the door as if he were itching to shut it in her face. He was usually fairly friendly.

"What's wrong with you? Are you okay?" Hermione asked.

"I'm fine," Addison sighed. "It's just that-"

"What was that?" Hermione asked, pushing past him into the house and looking up the staircase.

"What was what?"

"I heard voices." Hermione rounded on Addison. "He's here, isn't he?"

"Uh, well..."

Hermione glared at him.

Addison, scratched his neck again. "He told me to tell you he wasn't here. Sorry. But I think it's for the best, you should probably-"

"Is there someone else here?" she demanded. "Unless he's gone round the bend and is just talking to himself."

"Um..."

"Fine. I'll see for myself."

Addison moved to stand in front of the staircase. "I don't think you should go up there."

Hermione felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, knowing he was probably right. "I have to talk to him."

"It's not the best time, really-"

Hermione shoved past him. "I don't care."

"Hermione," Addison grabbed her by the wrist, halting her progress. "Look, I don't know what happened between the two of you, and I don't really understand your relationship. But I understand it enough to tell you to trust me when I say that you don't want to go up there."

She looked down at him, sorely tempted to take his advice. But his ominous warning meant that she couldn't.

"I have to," she replied, pulling her wrist from his grasp.

Addison sighed, but didn't try to stop her again when she turned and continued up the stairs.

Hermione didn't hear anything once she reached the upstairs hall, but she didn't count this as a good thing, an instinct that was confirmed a few moments later. As she stood outside his door, she hard the unmistakable sound of a female giggle.

_He wouldn't_, Hermione thought desperately. _Would he?_

* * *

**A/N: **Hmm. Yeah. We'll see. _  
_


	22. You Don't Have to Explain

_It's his mother, it's just his mother!_ No, that was stupid. Hermione knew well enough that Narcissa Malfoy wouldn't possibly be at her son's house, seeing as she'd heard the woman refer to it as "that silly hovel you call a house" multiple times.

No, it wasn't his mother.

Hermione carefully turned the doorknob to test if it was locked (a difficult task, considering her hands were shaking), which it was. Hermione closed her eyes for a few seconds, partially to fight back tears and partially to brace herself. She had to know for sure, but she hadn't brought her wand. She pressed her hands against the door, silently testing it's thickness and strength. It wasn't too thick and didn't appear to be too strong. Hermione shook her head a little to clear her mind, but the muffled sound of a moan was too much and she promptly kicked the door open with as much strength as she could muster.

"What the-"

Hermione felt no sympathy for the shocked and embarrassed face of Pansy Parkinson, who had sprung off Malfoy's lap so suddenly she'd tripped and fell into a disheveled heap on the floor. Hermione also felt little sympathy for Draco Malfoy, who looked as if someone had punched him the gut.

"Charming," Hermione bit out, struggling to balance her emotions. There was a deep, painful hurt inside her that was wrestling with a white-hot anger. Her eyes flicked over to Pansy, who was sporting a sparkling engagement ring on her left ring finger. "Absolutely charming."

"What are you doing here?" Malfoy asked quietly, who now had an unreadable look on his face.

"Doesn't matter much now," Hermione replied, working to look similarly expressionless. Her eyes fell on a wand – Malfoy's – that rested on the dresser next to her. It might be immature, but the anger was strong enough that a small bit of revenge would feel good, even if only for a moment. "Forget I was here."

And she grabbed his wand and fled the room.

The tears started to burn her eyes almost immediately once she reached the staircase, and the sight of a somber-faced Addison at the foot of the stairs only made it harder. "Please don't say I told you so," she choked out when she reached him.

Addison started to say something, but stopped short at the sound of raised voices coming from upstairs. He glanced up at the ceiling briefly. "I won't."

Hermione choked back a sob before turning on the spot and Disapparating right in front of a stunned Addison.

* * *

"I said he's a cousin. They drop the case if it's a relation."

"They're not idiots, Hermione. There will be an investigation and it won't take them very long to know you're lying," Ginny said impatiently.

"Calm down. I've already forged the paper trail," Hermione said absently.

"Fine. Whatever. But you still haven't told me why you did magic in front of Malfoy's roommate. What happened over there?" Ginny demanded. "And will you stop that!"

"Hey!" Hermione exclaimed as Ginny tore her knitting work out of her hands.

"What is this anyway?" Ginny asked, holding the lump of wool in front of her face.

"It's a cat sweater. For Crookshanks," Hermione said irritably.

"Ugh." Ginny tossed the knitting over her shoulder. "Now spill."

"There's nothing to spill." Hermione stretched out on the couch, resting her head on the armrest.

"You have to give me something," Ginny said.

"I hurt him. He hurt me. We're square." Hermione didn't dare tell Ginny the details. The redhead had been all prepared to not accept the possibility of Malfoy reverting back to his school personality, but she was Ron Weasley's sister and Harry Potter's wife. Hermione didn't think it was out of the question for Ginny to have a Harry and Ron-esque reaction and declare that Malfoy was the same pig from Hogwarts.

Ginny nudged Hermione's legs out of the way and perched on the edge of the couch. "Will you please tell me what actually happened?"

"It's not important." Hermione struggled to roll over, turning her back to Ginny. "I just need some time to myself."

"Alright. I get it. Let me know when you're ready to talk."

Hermione didn't say anything or turn around when she felt Ginny stand up. It wasn't until she hard her door open and close again that she lifted her head to make sure she was alone again.

She'd been alone for the better part of three days now. She was doing all her work from home and communicating with the Ministry via owl post. There had been a few hours where Hermione had thought she was going to have to go to the Ministry for a hearing for using magic in front of a Muggle, but she'd acted quickly to cover her tracks and pass Addison off as a cousin. It hadn't been easy to convince the Ministry that she had a cousin who was living with Draco Malfoy, but Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Addison had all provided the evidence that Hermione and Malfoy were friends. As far as Hermione knew, Malfoy hadn't blown her cover.

Hermione closed her eyes, curling up against the couch.

Malfoy had shown up at her door later soon after she'd Disapparated from his house, but Hermione had ignored his pleas to him in. Hermione had spitefully cut off the Floo connection to her fireplace while he was still knocking.

She had been mad. It took her almost an entire day to accept that she didn't have much justification to be mad.

So Malfoy had been snogging an engaged Pansy Parkinson. It wasn't like she'd walked in on anything overly scandalous. Yes, it's possible Hermione had only interrupted before things had gotten heavy, but she couldn't know that.

And if it had been on it's way to getting serious...what? Hermione had shafted Malfoy and had made it clear that they weren't in any kind of relationship. Malfoy had every right to move on.

Hermione couldn't be mad. But she could be hurt.

She had gone to his place to talk things out, to consider how they could move forward. Hermione had planned to take Ginny's advice and keep an open mind. But seeing Malfoy with another woman had hurt in a way she hadn't understood at the time.

But after she was done being angry, Hermione had realized why she'd felt so hurt. Even though she'd insisted Malfoy was mistaken, a part of her had wanted to believe that he loved her. She'd denied it for a while, but a part of her enjoyed the idea because a part of her felt something for him.

Hermione had cried when she'd finally accepted this. If she hadn't been so closed-minded to the possibility that Malfoy had been right – that she had feelings for him – they both could have been spared a good deal of hurt.

Because now Hermione was questioning how genuine Malfoy's feelings had been all along. If he could move on so easily, had she been right to be wary of his repeated insistence that he loved her? A week ago she might have felt some sense of relief to have evidence that she was right, but now that she'd accepted that she had feelings for him all she felt was a stinging sadness that was only exacerbated by the fact that it had been caused by her own words and actions.

And then there was the bit where Hermione felt like she'd blown her chance, that it was too late. What did it matter that she realized she had feeling for Malfoy now that he had moved on?

Hermione sat up miserably, her eyes automatically falling on her fireplace. She really needed to re-connect it to the Floo network soon, but she was paranoid about Malfoy using Floo to get into her apartment. Though she wasn't mad anymore, she now felt too much guilt and shame to face him.

Crookshanks wandered over from the kitchen, stopping to investigate the would-be cat sweater on the floor.

"Yeah, that's for you," Hermione said.

Crookshanks sniffed at it for a moment before attacking it with his claws, purring contentedly.

Hermione laid back down with a sigh, watching her cat for a few more minutes before her eyes drifted shut. At least someone was happy.

* * *

Hermione ignored the persistent knocking at her door. She knew who it was, and she was more than happy to stay on the couch and pretend she wasn't home.

"I know you're in there, Granger!"

"Do not," Hermione muttered to herself.

"You're going to have to let me in sometime!"

"Do not."

"You still have my wand!"

"Do n- oh." Hermione looked over at the counter, where she'd stuffed Malfoy's wand into a drawer and promptly forgotten about it.

"I hope you know your door's unlocked and I'm just being polite by not coming in!"

"Damn it, Ginny!" Hermione leapt to her feet and rushed to the door. When she went to turn the lock, though, she found that she couldn't: Malfoy was holding the doorknob open from the other side.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he said grimly.

Hermione braced a foot against the bottom of the door while she tried in vain to turn the knob from her side of the door.

"Are you really going to make me force my way in?"

Hermione didn't answer, taking her hands off the knob and leaning against the door with her back instead, feeling embarrassingly immature.

She heard him sigh when he tried the door again. "Please let me in?"

"No," Hermione answered, loudly enough for him to hear.

"I know you're mad, but I can explain-"

"I'm not mad."

"What is it, the 'I'm not mad, just disappointed?' bit? Because that's just a nicer way of saying you're mad."

"You're daft, I just said I wasn't mad-"

"I'm sorry, okay?"

"You don't have to apologize!" Hermione leaned her head back against the door. "Let it go, will you?"

"Will you just let me explain?"

"You don't have to explain," Hermione replied tiredly. "I said I wasn't mad."

"Well if you're not mad then you have no reason not to let me in!"

Hermione didn't answer.

"Look, I know what you saw with Pansy, it wasn't anything serious-"

"It doesn't matter."

"But nothing happened, I swear, it didn't go anywhere-"

"I told you an explanation wasn't necessary," Hermione pressed, though she felt a wave of relief sweep through her. "You had every right to move on."

There was a few moments of silence. "What are you talking about?"

Hermione sighed. She found spelling things out for people to be highly unpleasant. "I was obviously right in saying your feelings for me weren't what you thought they were, so there's absolutely nothing wrong with you moving on to someone else so quickly." Hermione hoped he didn't notice how bitter the words had sounded to her own ears. "I won't lie and say it wasn't a shock, as I would have expected more class from you after everything. Though I guess I shouldn't have set high expectations for Draco Malfoy in the first place."

Another pause. "Granger, you're raving and you're an idiot."

"What?" Hermione asked, confused.

"You're off your rocker with this 'moving on' business of yours."

"But Pansy-"

"I was sad!" She heard a thump on the door, as if he'd slammed his fist against it in frustration. "I was sad and she was there. It meant nothing!"

Hermione shut her eyes, wondering if she dared to believe him.

"What did you think I would do – sit around on a couch and wallow in self-pity?"

_That would have been a perfectly valid reaction, _Hermione thought indignantly.

"I didn't know what to do with myself. I don't have a job-"

"Not my fault!" Hermione pointed out.

"-and I don't have any hobbies or friends-"

_You had me!_ Hermione blinked away tears. "And whose fault is that?"

"Will you just let me finish?" he said with another thump against the door. "Do you think if I was trying to make a statement or punish you or something I would have asked Addison to lie to you about where I was?" Malfoy demanded through the door. "I picked a really fucking stupid way to deal with everything. I knew I would end up regretting even contacting her, but I was upset and did it anyway. But I asked Addison to lie and I avoided you and your letters because all I could think about was making sure you didn't get hurt."

"You didn't do a very good job, then," Hermione replied before she could stop herself. I know this might sound rich coming from me, but if you don't want to hurt someone then you don't do something that will hurt them."

There was a lengthy pause. "Part of the reason I did something so stupid was because even though I knew I'd regret it, I didn't think it would hurt you if you did find out."

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't upset me," she admitted.

"Why did it upset you?"

A variety of different excuses started flying through her brain. Because Pansy was clearly a classless cow just like she was at school. Because he'd showed a definite lack of class himself because she was engaged. Because he'd been ignoring her letters. Because he hadn't run after her. No, that one wouldn't work. Because he'd told Addison to lie to her. Because he'd berated her for using him and then gone to use someone himself.

But she couldn't keep making excuses.

"Because it hurt to see you with someone else," she answered finally, her eyes starting to sting with tears. "And because I brought it on myself."

"What are you saying?" he asked slowly.

"I don't like to admit when I'm wrong," Hermione said as she slowly peeled herself away from the door and turned to face it. She wiped her eyes before placing a hand on the knob. "Or when someone else when is right."

"You're going to have to be more clear than that, Granger."

Hermione took in a shaky breath, her hand slowly turning the doorknob. "You kept insisting that I was in denial about having feelings for you and I kept insisting you were wrong," she said, finally pulling the door open. "I was wrong and you were right."

Malfoy was leaning against the door frame, looking down at her somberly. "I'm sorry," he said.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm the one who needs to apologize," she said. "I'm so, so sorry."

"I can't do any more uncertainty. I can't," he said straightening out.

"I know," Hermione replied.

"Good."

"I should also apologize for stealing for wand, freaking out your roommate, and causing an inquiry at the Ministry."

"I guess I'll forgive you. Even if your cover was terrible and you're probably going to get a pretty heavy fine."

"Yeah, well, you haven't seen my forged paperwork yet," Hermione said. "I'll get your wand." She turned to head for the counter, but Malfoy grabbed her by the hand, stopping her.

He was staring at her intently. "What now?"

An answer. He wanted an answer from her.

There was a small, unusually faint voice in her head telling her to stamp this out here and now, but Hermione felt inclined to ignore that voice.

"Well," she started slowly. "I don't think I can be friends with you."

"What?" Malfoy dropped her hand as if it burned him, a stricken look on his face.

Hermione refrained from laughing at how wrongly he appeared to have misinterpreted her words – it was almost ironic – but couldn't hold back a smile. "And you called me an idiot," she chuckled/ Once comprehension finally dawned on Malfoy's face, Hermione finally turned to retrieve his wand.

Malfoy was still standing in the doorway with a look of mild surprise on his face when Hermione returned with his wand. "Here," she said, holding it out to him.

He looked down at his wand, then back up at her. Hermione smiled at him uncertainly, wondering if she had been wrong to think he had understood what she said.

"I can keep it a little longer, I suppose," she said after a few moments when he still hadn't taken it or said anything. "It's not like I don't have room for-"

"Oh, shut up about the stupid wand," he muttered, knocking it out of her hand and pulling her towards him. "You really need to work on your communication skills, Hermione Granger."

"What do you-" she started to ask, but he cut her off by kissing her.

* * *

**A/N: **Literally re-wrote the ending of this chapter about ten times (at one point it was another cliffhanger). But I got there eventually.


End file.
